Farscape Epic RPG: I, Assassin
by Chant99
Summary: Based on my RPG: Berret turns his back on his new life aboard Moya to take revenge against the Black Syndicate and the Scarran that made him a Enforcer and a killer. To do so, he also has to walk away from Chiana, likely for forever. Chptr 12 up 10.26.07
1. Foreword

THE FARSCAPE EPIC RPG UNIVERSE: NEW CHARACTERS & SETTING.  
  
COMING SOON: I have made arrangements with Scottie R. Watson, the creator of the Chiana illustration that has been selling on Ebay, to create an original illustration of Chiana and Berret to go with the "Fallen Angel" series and Farscape Epic RPG stories I have been posting here. As soon as they are available they will be posted at the RPG for all those who care to stop in and look at them. There you will also find the information on how to contact Scottie if you wish to have your own RPG character or artwork done. There is currently an example of his work on our front page at:   
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/farscapeepicrpg/  
  
Author's Note: This story was written based on the characters from my Farscape RPG group. I thought I'd try posting it here to see what others thought. But first I need to explain a bit about our RPG so you can follow the extra characters.  
The name of the group is "Farscape Epic RPG" and it can be found on Yahoo groups for those who wish to look us up. The game is based in an alternate Farscape universe that diverges from the shows timeline somewhere after Talyn's birth but before the Chiana/D'argo relationship.  
The Berret character here is basically the same Shrike 457 character from the "Fallen Angel" series posted here at Fanfiction.net. Though the original meeting between Chiana and the Shrike took place in a different way in the game.  
The other new characters in this story are original player characters.  
  
Andar Murdough - is a Sebacean teacher from a forgotten and lost colony. Andar's people have lost so much knowledge over the cycles that space flight is considered science fiction. Andar is abducted by aliens who experiment on his brain trying to increase intelligence. The project works much better then they thought and Andar steals a shuttle and eventually finds his way to Moya. Andar becomes a sponge for any sort of knowledge and begins to go through Moya's data banks learning everything he can. He often sees machines or gadgets in his mind and will disappear for days into his workshop to build them.  
  
Malika Phatan - is a 125-year-old Delvian teenager. After spending a number of cycles as a Peacekeeper slave aboard a command carrier, she and her mother escape in a Prowler, but at the cost of the life of a young PK officer who fell in love and secretly married Malika. After a time of running and hiding, the pair run into a Syndicate Shrike and the meeting leaves young Malika with an intense hatred and distrust for the Enforcers when the assassin kills a client Malika took a job bodyguarding for, and almost kills her and her mother in the process. Sometime after that, Malika's mother is tragically killed, leaving the girl alone. She hears a story about an escaped Leviathan with a Delvian Pa'u aboard and sets out to find the living ship with the hopes of fulfilling her mother's dream of her becoming a Pa'u. She finds Moya and Zhaan (who is alive in our game) and the older Delvian agrees to take her in. However, now there is a Shrike aboard Moya as Chiana's companion and she is having a hard time controlling the tendencies for violence she developed during the hard life she lived on the run from the Peacekeepers. Through young, Malika is also a skilled healer and thanks to her parents, an educated student of exobiology. She sets up a small lab on one of Moya's lower tiers, mostly to hide out from having to be around Berret ... and possibly Andar. Both Andar and Malika feel an attraction to each other, but the Delvian isn't sure she wants to open her heart to another after what happened to her Peacekeeper husband.   
  
Sean Crichton - 70 years after the disappearance of astronaut John Crichton, his descendant Sean uses John and DK's research to construct the Wander module. In an attempt to prove that his ancestor's theories were sound, Sean repeats the slingshot effect and is also thrown halfway across the universe only with a slightly different result. The Wander module is somehow draw backward in time to the Farscape module's location and is expelled from a wormhole near Moya. Sean finds himself stunned to be surrounded by a group of aliens and suddenly faced with a family legend.   
  
Arckatius - The Scarren leader of the Black Syndicate House that enslaved Berret and made him a Shrike Enforcer / Assassin. Arckatius is a distant cousin of Scorpius' and is slightly demented for a Scarren, believing himself to be a "King". In "The Grandmaster", Arckatius sends his Master Shrike, Val'Cirrus after Berret to kill him and bring back his control collar - which contains information about several operations that Berret took part in for the Black Syndicate. Berret has vowed to kill the Scarren Syndicate leader in repayment for his enslavement and the life he feels that Arckatius has destroyed. Driven by the haunting nightmares of the lives he was forced to take as a Syndicate Enforcer, Berret feels that killing Arckatius will go some way in atoning for his "sins." He also holds the Scarren responsible for what he thinks as his inability to love Chiana... and that the Nebari girl could never love him in return because of the things he has done in his Syndicate past.   
  
Grandmaster Zear Shenna - The leader of the mysterious Shrike Clan of Assassin Warriors of legend. A Delvian man over 1600 cycles old, Shenna sometimes appears at when Berret or the crew find themselves needing help. Shenna has an unknown interest in Berret and is somehow able to keep track of him. The crew isn't sure what his agenda is, but so far he seems to genuinely have the group's best interest in heart.  
Grandmaster Shenna revealed some of the true history of the Shrike Clans to Berret and Chiana in "The Grandmaster," where they learned that the Syndicate 'borrowed' the term 'Shrikes' for their assassin Enforcers... playing off the old legends of the ancient warrior / assassin / soldiers to increase the fearsome reputation of their killers.  
  
  
The lyrics for "Wherever you will go," by 'The Calling' were pointed out to me by Murdough2000 who owes the Andar character as being a nice "Chiana and Berret" song. So I though it would be nice to work them into the story with the name of the album the song appears on. You can find them in chapter two. All credit of course goes to the band for that wonderful song & meaningful lyrics.  
  
This story takes place at some point before the events in "Rules Of Engagement," There is no exact timeframe set as of yet and the story is still an ongoing work that might take awhile to finish as I have no idea myself what will happen to the crew next - LOL! I'm just as anxious as the next person to find out what happens next. :)  
I thank everyone who has reviewed my stories and has like them. I wasn't sure that they would interest anyone outside my RPG but I see they have. I thank you for the support and I hope I can continue to keep you all interested. Please enjoy~!  
  
Chant99 


	2. Chapter 1

"Pilot! Pilot, where is he?"  
Chiana's sudden rush onto the command tier startled Zhaan. She straightened up from the control board she was working over and regarded the younger woman.  
"Where is who, Chiana?" the curious Delvian asked.  
Chiana spun toward her as if she hadn't realized the Pa'u was present in the Leviathan's command center.  
"Berret, he's gone," she answered. She turned back to look at the still inactive clamshell. "Pilot!" she called again urgently. The holo-comm flickered to life and Moya's helmsman appeared.  
"I'm sorry, Chiana. I was busy monitoring some of Moya's other systems. How can I help you?" he asked.  
"Where's Berret? Where did he go?" the half-panicked Nebari asked again. Zhaan looked on in confusion, still wondering where the ex-assassin could possibly be. The Leviathan was in deep space between systems. Where else could Chiana's friend and her crewmate be but somewhere aboard Moya?  
"Berret left Moya in the Wraith several arns ago," Pilot reported. The being looked a little apologetic as he added, "I assumed you and he had another disagreement and he left in his ship to be alone for awhile."  
Zhaan looked back at Chiana for confirmation just as the girl turned to her and shook her head.  
"No. No, we didn't have an argument," Chiana denied. "He's been secretive lately," she said as she rubbed a spot on the back of her neck. "I think he knocked me out with something. When I woke back up he was gone and he's taken all his things with him. Zhaan... he took everything!"  
"You must be mistaken, Chiana. Where would he go out here?" Zhaan said. Chiana vigorously shook her head and grabbed onto the Delvian's arm.  
"I'm sure of it, his room is empty. His clothes, his weapons... all gone. Except for these."  
Chiana held out a pouch that clinked with the sound of metal credit chips. Tied around Chiana's wrist was a braided bracelet that had the silver Delvian mediation talisman Zhaan had given Berret woven into it. It was the first possession the ex-assassin had that hadn't come with him or that was found in the Wraith when it arrived. Zhaan knew that after she given it to him that the Shrike made a habit of always carrying it with him as sort of a good luck token.   
"I found the money on the bed beside me and the bracelet on my arm when I woke up. Zhaan, this is almost all of Berret's credits. He didn't think I knew where he hid them, but I'm sure this is just about all of it."  
Zhaan began to get a cold feeling in the pit of what would have passed for her stomach were she human.  
"He took all his weapons but almost none of his credits?" she repeated.  
Chiana nodded. "Yeah, I know. Wherever he's going he doesn't think he's gonna need money as much as weapons. That's what's bothering me." She turned to the still watching Pilot. "Pilot, why didn't you tell someone?"  
Zhaan answered her question before Pilot could. "You know we are all free to come and go aboard Moya at anytime, Chiana. It is not Pilot's fault."  
"Moya and I are sorry, Chiana," put in the hologram. "Had we suspected something that Berret was going off to someplace dangerous we would have alerted the rest of the crew. We have learned from past experience that there are times when it would be best if we did interfere with our passengers business for their own safety."  
Zhaan gave the being on the clamshell a tight smile. "Thank you, Pilot. It is still not your fault, as you had no reason to believe that anything was amiss with Berret. If you can... does Moya know which way the Wraith went when it left the ship?"  
"I believe we should be able to plot a imprecise course path based on the Wraith's last know trajectory. I'm sorry that we can not be more exact than that, Zhaan," said Pilot.  
"That will be good enough for a start, Pilot. Thank you," replied the Delvian.  
A few microts later Pilot announced, "We have it. Placing the Wraith last know course trajectory on the main viewer now."  
Moya's main screen changed to reveal a starchart with a pulsing blue line to indicate the flight of Berret's ship.  
"That just goes off into nowhere," said Chiana.  
"I know, child," muttered Zhaan as she studied the chart. "Pilot? Is this all the information Moya was able to collect?"  
"I'm afraid it is, Zhaan. After that Berret was outside of Moya's sensor range... and you know the Wraith is designed to be difficult to track."   
The Priestess continued to mutter to herself for a microt. "Pilot, using Moya's navigation data-base, increase the starchart view scale by a factor of two." The chart blurred for a split microt and then refocused to show a larger section of that space. "Again please, Pilot," she asked once more. The view on the screen shifted. "Again, if you will."   
Zhaan studied the new view and her attention fell on a marked sector at the very edge of the chart. "Pilot, magnify that marked sector of space," she asked him.  
The screen flickered. Chiana and Zhaan both sharply inhaled as they read the label.   
"Oh no!" Chiana muttered in denial.  
"Pilot!" Zhaan shouted at almost the same time, "Call the others!"  
  
"He's heading where?" asked John.  
"To the Imperium... into Scarren space," replied Zhaan.  
"You're sure?" Crichton asked again in disbelieve.  
"He's heading straight for it," confirmed D'argo as he rose from rechecking the data on the command panel.  
"Why would he do that?" asked Aeryn.  
"To betray us to his masters, that's why," put in Rygel. "I knew we couldn't trust him."  
"No."  
Chiana's tiny moan was so heartfelt that it cut over the other crewmate's discussion. Andar was the closest to her and he turned to ask, "Why do you think he's gone, Chiana?"  
The Nebari turned heavy eyes on her companions; even Rygel's eyebrows drooped at the sad sight of their friend.  
"Arckatius... he has gone to kill Arckatius," she finally told them. The girl looked as if all life had drained from her. "It can be the only reason."   
"Well, that's a good thing, right?" asked Sean. "This Arckatius dude is the bad guy if I remember right."  
"Of course he's the bad guy, you stupid bag of useless pink skin!" Rygel shot in. "Do you know what he's done! The Black Syndicate is the most powerful underworld organization in both the Charted and Uncharted Territories. They know he was traveling with us. When he fails the rest of us will be marked for death!"  
"Let them come," sneered D'argo while he fingered the blade of his Qualta sword.  
Rygel swung his thronesled over to face the big warrior. "You're just as stupid as Crichton. Both Crichtons! We are defenseless with only two Prowlers and a handful of Hell-Storm and Nova missiles. The Syndicates resources are so vast they can afford to throw away men and equipment just to get revenge. If I still had my armed forces we would have nothing to fear, but as it is now..." The Hynerian let his comment trail off as he shivered thinking about the way that the Syndicate might chose to kill them.  
"Maybe he won't fail," Andar offered up.  
Malika shook her head and hugged both of her slim arms closer to herself as if she'd received a sudden chill. "This Arckatius will have an army of Shrikes surrounding him," she said. "He'll never make it." The Delvian girl frowned deeply and lowered her head to stare idly at the deck. "Berret's done some frelled up things before, but this..."  
Chiana hugged herself in a copy of Malika. "Shenna said he might do something like this if he got the chance," the Nebari murmured out loud to the group.  
Malika muttered a low curse and then looked up and found Zhaan's eyes.  
"We should have seen this coming!"  
The others might not exactly understand the younger Delvian's comment but Zhaan understood it perfectly. They had been in the ex-assassin's mind and had witnessed the torment there. They had healed him the best they were able at the time. They... she, should have known.  
  
Aeryn stood up from her seat and walked around the control pedestal.   
"There will be time for incriminations later. Right now with the Wraith gone, we've lost a third of our tactical firepower to protect Moya. We need to figure out how much danger we're in and how much time we have left to either fix the situation or escape," she told the rest of the group.  
"You don't get it, do you?" snapped Rygel. "The Syndicate will think we helped him plot his revenge. After they kill him, they'll be coming for us. There's not going to be any escape."  
"Chill, Butt-munchkin!" put in Sean. The younger human casually drew one of his weapons and check to be sure it was loaded before sliding it back into its holster. "We've been in tougher spots and managed to pull our bacon outta the fire."  
"Frelling idiot," muttered the Hynerian under his breath as Aeryn broke back into the discussion.  
"Enough," she said. "What's done is done. We have to start planning now." She glanced down to regard Rygel. "Unless that is, Rygel... you prefer to just give up now and just sit and wait for the assassins to show up to kill you?"  
The Dominar frowned and shook his head in the negative.  
"I didn't think so," the ex-Peacekeeper said. "Now Chiana, tell us exactly what happened before Berret left the ship. Maybe you'll remember something that might come in useful."  
The Nebari girl rubbed at the back of her neck once again as she thought over the question.  
"Its all still a little fuzzy," she began. "I remember we were in the gym for a while. Like I said, he'd been acting real secretive lately..."  
  
Berret whirled the oar-shaped bladed weapon around his head in a blur. The wide blade cut the air with a continuous whistling hiss that only halted when the ex-assassin suddenly stopped the weapon or changed its direction to alter the angle of his attack on his imaginary opponents. Chiana involuntarily shivered from her place off the training floor as she watched her friend practice. She remembered using the exact same staff weapon to attack Crichton when she was first brought aboard Moya by Salis and Durka. Luckily, John was able to disarm her before she could serious maim or kill him. If she'd had the skill Berret was now displaying with the long arm, John never would have had the chance to offer a truce and give her a home. She hugged her arms tighter around her knees as she thanked the Goddess that she lacked the skill that day... otherwise her life would have turned out very different indeed.  
On the floor, Berret twirled the blade around in a figure eight in front of him and then suddenly whipped it around low behind him. Chiana swallowed as she realized that if it had been a real fight, anyone who was trying to sneak up behind the Shrike would have had their legs cut off somewhere below the knees. The whole time he practiced, his face remained emotionless, which she found somewhat disturbing. While the others trained, herself included, they either had a look of intense concentration or they slipped into the role of fighting their imagined attackers... in which case, they'd have a look fury or anger as if they really where in the middle of combat. This blank look of Berret's bothered her, as she believed violence should have its roots in the anger or fury of self-protection, not in this calm efficient manner. It made her friend look too much like a soulless killing machine instead of a person.  
A few microts later, the Shrike brought the weapon down along his side in a move that Chiana recognized meant that he was ending the routine. Berret stepped outside the marked off training area toward her and went to replace the staff in it's wall rack. Chiana rose to her feet as he neared her.  
"Its about time," she quipped impishly. "I was beginning to think you like that pole more than my company."  
Berret give her a tight smile as he put the weapon up. "No," he said simply.  
Chiana's own smile fell slightly. She'd been hoping that he would have responded better to her playful chatter. Lately he'd been more withdrawn then usual and she was doing her best to break him out of his mope.  
"Well, that's good," she put in, "because if I have to play another hand of 'Busuko Trump' with Rygel I'm gonna scream my shelling head off."  
Berret glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Has he beaten you much?" he asked.  
The Nebari's spirit lifted for a moment, this was as much interest that Berret had shown about anything going on around him aboard ship in over two weeken. It seemed he mostly spend his spare time working out in the gym lately. "Well... actually I've won quite a few credits off the little Toad," she added chipperly. "But he's driving me crazy trying to win them back. You know how he is about anyone being better at a gambling game then he is."  
"Ah," said Berret absently as they headed out into the corridor. "That's nice."  
Chiana's heart sank as she saw that she was losing him again to whatever was preoccupying him.  
They walked back to his quarters and Chiana followed him inside. To her surprise, he began to pull his workout clothes off as he headed to his shower unit. She went right in with him wondering if he'd bother to stop her from following further. He didn't, so she hopped up to sit on the basin counter and idly continued to chat with him through the stall curtain. Occasionally, the man rewarded her with a generic reply to a random comment. She thought about doing something totally outrageous, like turning the hot water supply off or stripping down and joining him in the stall... anything to get a reaction from the man. Before she could act on any of her plans to capture Berret's attention, the water shut off and he stepped out of the unit. Chiana absently threw him a towel.  
"So, are you going to join us at dinner tonight?" she asked as he dried himself off. "I have a box of Sultanian chocolates left. I was thinking later tonight I can drop by and we can spend some time talking," she offered.  
Berret wrapped the towel around his waist and looked up and gave her the same half-empty smile he'd had of late.  
"I'm sorry, Pixie," he apologized. "I have some work I want to finish on the Wraith tonight."  
"I thought Aeryn said it was flight ready?" she asked.  
"It is. This is something extra I'm working on."  
Chiana frowned deeply. "Can't it wait? We're in the middle of nowhere and haven't seen another ship since last planet fall." She moved in closer to him. "Look... I know we were fighting more than usual for a while, but we haven't lately. I miss you and I just want to spend some time together like we use to. You're always too busy lately."  
Berret actually seemed like his old self for a few microns. "No. No, its nothing about our disagreements. I just have this project and I guess I'm taking a little after Andar with it by not stopping for anything until it's done. I'm sorry, I never meant for you to think I was ignoring you for any reason."  
"So you'll take tonight off and we'll 'hang' like Crichton says?" she asked.  
Berret looked sheepish and then shook his head. "I'm sorry but not tonight. I'm almost done. Tomorrow night we can talk and 'hang' if you want."  
Chiana cocked her head to one side. "You promise?"  
She realized than in an instant she saw a gauntlet of emotions play across the Shrike's face, among them she was sure she saw a look of intense sadness. In a microt they were all covered over again by Berret's calm facade.   
"Yes... I promise," he said after a moment's hesitation. She was pleasantly surprised when he reached up with one hand to gently caress her cheek. He lowered his hand a microt later and the fake smile again graced his features.  
"Okay, I'll hold you to it," Chiana told him as she left his quarters.  
Outside in the corridor she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that Berret had just lied to her.  
  
She hadn't seen the Shrike for the rest of the day and he didn't appear at the evening meal with the rest of the crew. Chiana considered that Berret hadn't missed much seeing it was Rygel's turn to cook and he'd prepared the usual overabundance of Hynerian delicacies and very little in the way that was appealing to the non-Hynerian members of the crew. Most made due with a few warmed up leftovers and food cubes.  
After dinner on a hunch, Chiana wandered by Berret's quarters only to find the converted cell's door closed and the heavy drapes drawn. Something heavy fell inside the room and something about the noise put Chiana's instincts on alert. She silently tiptoed to the door and listened, the sounds of more heavy objects being moved about came to her. Breaking ship's protocol, she triggered the door without announcing herself and asking permission to enter. She brushed aside the drapes and entered the room to find Berret dressed in his armor and packing several bags.  
"What's going on? What are you doing?" she asked abruptly.  
Berret spun to face her, obviously not having heard the door open through the heavy drapes covering it.  
"Chiana," he said half guiltily. He stood and looked at her, offering no further explanation.  
She moved further into the room and looking around saw he'd packed up all his belongings.   
"What is this?" she asked again in bewilderment. "Are you jumping ship? Why?"  
"This is something you wouldn't understand," he finally said as he picked several items up and dropped them into a bag. Chiana tilted her head hard to one side and half-thrusted her chin out in the way she had when she was about to confront somebody over something they were doing.   
"Well, why don't you just try explaining it to me so I can understand then?" she demanded.  
Berret glanced down at her, obviously wrestling with some inner demon.  
"I can't," he said, "There's not enough time to explain it all, love."  
"Well, you better damn sure make the..." she started as the endearment registored, "Wait... what did you just say to me?"  
Berret's eyes soften as he stepped closer to her. He again reached up to caress her cheek. His fingertips were warm but the ballistic cloth and leather of his half-gloves were cool as they touched her skin. He seem to be studying her face for a few microts and then his hand gently moved from her cheek to rest at the back of her neck.  
"I said, there's not enough time left to explain," he said again in a low voice.  
Before she could ask another question there was a barely audible click and Chiana felt a sting at the back of her neck where his hand rested.  
Her eyes flew open in the shock of betrayal and she found that she'd suddenly lost the ability to speak. Her limbs quickly went numb and she felt Berret pick her up so she wouldn't fall. He brought her over to the bed and tenderly laid her out on it. He sat down beside her and stoked her hands as her body began to feel heavier and her eyes started to close of their own violation. The last thing she could recall after that was Berret whispering he was sorry.  
  
"...And then I woke up with the bracelet and charm Zhaan gave him tied around my wrist and the credit bag besides my head," Chiana finished telling her story.  
John stood back and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "It would figure he was on a time schedule. He timed his departure for when Moya was going to be at her closest to Scarren occupied space."  
Aeryn nodded her head in agreement.   
"But why now?" the ex-Peacekeeper asked. "What's so special about choosing now to go of all times? We've been through this sector a number of times in the past, what's different about this time?"  
"Uh-oh," mutter Sean. The man looked as if Aeryn's question had just flicked a switch somewhere inside his head.  
"What is it, Sean?" asked Andar, the human's reaction peaking his interest.  
"Maybe the question shouldn't be 'what's different about this time around' but rather, what did he learn this time around," said the younger Crichton.  
"What are you getting at, bro?" asked the elder Crichton.  
"Yes," half-growled D'argo, "And speak plainly and not in more riddles."  
Sean rolled his eyes at the huge warrior but said nothing else, having long ago gotten use to the Luxan's gruff manner and short patience. "You guys remember, the commerce planet two weekens ago?"  
The rest of the crew nodded. "Remember that pickpocket who tried to snatch Rygel's package of marjols thinking it was his credit bag?"  
"I do," grumbled the Hynerian. "Why you didn't kill that miserable fralp on the spot is beyond me."  
"Because he would have been doing the rest of us a favorite, your Rectalness, if he had stolen those disgusting snails from you," put in D'argo. "Go on, Sean," he said, turning back to the human.  
"You remember how freaked out he got when he saw Berret in his Shrike armor? He started begging not to be eradicated."  
"Yeah, he was gibbering so much I stopped listening to what he was saying," John said.  
"Same here," replied Andar. "But Berret did not. In fact he spoke with the fellow for quite sometime if I recall correctly."  
"I remember," added Malika. "I heard Berret asking a lot of questions about the Scarren Syndicate Houses. I just assumed he was collecting information that might be useful to us sometime in the future to avoid them."  
Aeryn frowned. "He was collecting information all right," she drawled, "But not so we could avoid them."  
"Yeah, it was right after that, that he started to get moody," Chiana thought out loud.  
"You mean you can tell when he's not moody?" quipped Sean. Zhaan gave him a pained look. "Sorry," he apologized right away. "I was just trying to lighten the mood with some humor... as always."  
"Huh... let us know when you're going to start," shot in Rygel brusquely.  
Sean looked as if he was getting ready to retaliate against the Dominar when Aeryn cut him off.  
"Enough prattling, children!" she said. "The question right now is... what are we going to do. We need to plan."  
"What plan? He's as good as dead," Rygel said. "One man against a Scarren Black Syndicate House... its madness. We have to get out of here and do it right now!"  
"I thought you said there was nowhere to hide if they wanted us dead," asked the Luxan.  
"Yes," answered Rygel. "But at least lets make them frelling work for it."  
Chiana looked from one crewmember to another. "What about Berret? We can't just leave him out there. We have to go find him."  
Malika slammed her fist down on the chart table making the others jump slightly at the sudden noise.  
"Weren't you listening?" she snapped. "We're talking a High Syndicate House, one of the major ones... Do you know how many Enforcers they can field at any one time? Have you ever seen what a full Shrike can do... and I'm not talking about Shrikes like those three from that minor Syndicate house that boarded us awhile ago?"  
Chiana swallowed, not use to being the blunt of the younger Delvian's anger.  
"Yeah, I've seen Berret... and that other one, Val'Cirrus," the Nebari replied.  
"Well, multiple that by about a hundred because that's what they'll send against us," Malika spat.  
"You have no idea of what a Shrike Enforcer on the hunt will do. They're unfeeling, unrelenting... and almost unstoppable." Unbidden the memory of Yesler rose up in her mind, the man who had blackmailed her mother into agreeing to Malika serving as a bodyguard in order to gain access to medical equipment needed to save the girl's life. She could still recall the blinding speed of the assassin's attack, the feeling of dread as her knife blade bounced off what she knew now could only have been armor plate, the stunning blow that had sent her hurling away from the Shrike as he tore Yesler to pieces before her and her mother's eyes, the victim's mind bending shrieks that filled her ears. The helpless terror of believing that she and her mother, Samnatha, where going to die next. Malika gritted her teeth as she remembered the Shrike Enforcer picking her up off the ground and looking into those soulless eyes that regarded her. The emotionless way it announced that she and her mother were not "specified targets" and then let her fall back to the ground as if she no longer mattered. Berret, she knew had been like that once... something she doubted Chiana or any of the others except for Zhaan could truly understand in her estimate.  
"Berret was a Shrike," Chiana said defensively. "He'll be able to handle whatever they throw at him."  
To the Nebari's bewilderment, Malika threw her head back and laughed almost dementedly.  
"Don't you frelling get it?" the young Delvian female announced as if speaking to a slow child. "He's not anymore. You... We've changed him. He doesn't think he's changed much but he has. He doesn't have that Enforcer mindset, now he's saddled with a conscious. He's going to think when he should be killing and he will die for it." Malika's eyes hardened as she stared at the Nebari girl, her words starting to sink into Chiana's mind and those of her companions. "He's lost that edge and he doesn't even realize it."  
The young Priestess paused a microt to look around Command at the rest of Moya's crew. She picked up a diagnostic tool from the chart table and began idly turning the metal cube over in her slim blue fingers.  
"I was all for going off to Scorpius' Command Carrier that time to help John because there was no other alternative other than letting John die... or worse. I had no problem with the risk helping Zhaan repair Berret's mind because despite how I feel about Shrikes, helping Berret was the right thing to do and its what my mother would have expected of me. This needless vendetta against the Syndicate that he's gone off on..."  
The woman's words trailed off as she suddenly turned and whipped the tool against a bulkhead in sudden fury. The device shattered as it hit.  
"Frell me! But I'm ashamed to say we should have let him remain a vegetable," she growled as she turned her back on her crewmates. "Rygel's right... he's as good as killed himself and endangered us all for nothing." Her voice dropped lower as is she were surrendering to the inevitable, "We're all going to be 'specified targets' now."  
Without a further word, Malika walked out of command to leave her friends silently looking at one another. 


	3. Chapter 2

Berret shifted the dirty and ragged coat he'd acquired and slouched down further to better blend in with the rest of the beings moving around him on the busy city street. He had arrived and made planet-fall half a solar day ago and he'd just gotten his first lead as to where the Syndicate summit was taking place. The unlucky pickpocket's information had been correct, the heads of most of the powerful Houses both High and Minor were meeting for some still secret reason. With so many of the Houses meeting here on what they considered neutral ground, he was reasonably sure that he should be able to blend in enough once he learned the location to get close to Arckatius. His more current pressing problem right now was that he was dressed as a homeless person and he had picked up a tail. Whether it was from the questions he'd been asking or just bad luck he wasn't sure. Either way, he had to do something about it soon. He wandered along the street occasionally asking for a handout from beings that appeared well to do. After several had absently tossed him small credit coins and even more passer-bys angrily shouted at him to go away, he muttered caustically out loud at their lack of charity and headed off down a alleyway that he picked for its dark places. Once inside, it wasn't long before he heard his shadow rush up behind him.  
A rough hand grab his arm and forced him to turn around to face the being who'd been following him.  
"Hand over the credits and I'll let you live," the male humanoid demanded curtly.  
Berret almost sighed in relief that it was just one street person strong-arming another. The man would have looked Sebacean except for the third eye in the middle of his extremely broad chin. The being brandished a sharpened length of metal and shook Berret again to emphasize his order.  
"Give em' over or..."  
The robber never got to complete his threat as Berret place the silenced pulse pistol's muzzle against his chest and fired once. The man's body crashing into a nearby trash heap made more noise then the gun did. The man looked up in shock as Berret moved to stand over him with the still smoking pistol in his hand.  
"Sorry. I can't afford to let you walk around after seeing me," he said softly as he raised the pulse pistol up again. "You just picked the wrong victim... nothing personal."  
The gun chugged softly again and a new hole appeared in the being's forehead. Berret placed the pistol back inside his coat and moved quickly away from the body before anyone else came along.  
He doubted anyone would care about the thief's death, but he didn't want to be caught for it or with the silenced pistol either, as it had come with the rest of his belongs aboard Wraith and was obviously a Syndicate assassination weapon. Berret spent an idle microt thinking how he'd just callously murdered the strong-arm man without a microt's thought to the act. A reasoning being might have taken that as prove of his unhealthy obsession with revenge, but Berret chose not to think on the matter further. Everything he felt he was or had once been was leading up to this time and place. This time of retribution, this place where he would atone for all the evil he reaped in the Syndicate's name and service. Anything that might arouse Arckatius' suspicion that he was on the planet needed to be avoided at all costs, nothing or no one must be allowed to interfere. Otherwise, he'd thrown that small eddy of peace, everything he had found for himself aboard Moya, away for nothing.  
  
He dodged down several side streets and after making sure no one was following him he returned to the main thoroughfare. He rejoined the throng of people and other creatures, wandering along with an open ear to all the conversations around him. He caught several ragged ends of information or rumor about the Syndicate heads in the city but nothing solid to follow up on. He saw a number of Scarrens moving about in groups, but none of the faces or House signets struck a cord as being familiar to him. None of the Scarrens seemed to be paying an overt amount of attention to him either so he realized none of them recognized him from anywhere. He was just about to give up and try his luck on a different street when the mood of the crowd subtlety changed. He moved off to one side naturally with the flow of the people around him. A micron later four cloaked figures made their way past the building he stopped to lean up against pretending to beg for spare credits. Three of the figures moved more or less in tandem while the fourth wearing a black cloak with slate-gray piping on the edges followed behind. A Shrike Triad with a Master Shrike!  
The Master and two of the Triad looked Sebacean while the third Triad member had Delvian blue skin but with no chlorophyll markings like Zhaan or Malika had, so the creature wasn't floral based. It also varied in the fact that it had long dark green hair, purple eyes without any visible irises, and had two tentacle-like protrusions hanging from the corners of its mouth almost like a mustache. Berret had never seen its like before to the best of his knowledge. The Master called a halt to the group in front of a fabric dealer and began to look through the wares. The Triad stopped and stared off aimlessly. From his position across the street, Berret could see the control collars locked around the necks of the beings. The Master obviously didn't wear one and had his own free will. The fact that he was looking through expensive silks and other rare material told Berret that the Master was probably a high ranking Shrike in his House and that he probably had several mistresses he was buying the fabrics for. The crowd gave the quartet plenty of room and as the Master's order of bolts of cloth started to add up, it gave Berret an idea. He brushed his hands into some nearby dirt and than rubbed it onto his face and then mussed his hair to make himself appear more like a desperate street person looking to scrape-by by any means necessary. He left his place and scurried across the street as if he'd seen an important opportunity there. The Triad virtually ignored him as he approached which confirmed Berret's first impression that the Master hadn't activated them. They were for show only, supposed bodyguards for the Master. Had the man felt threatened in any way about his trip out in public, the Triad would have been brought out of dormancy status and placed on alert or hunt mode. The Master probably felt that his status required an escort to impress the locals.  
As he neared the Master, Berret called out in a whiney voice to attract his attention.  
"Sir! Great sir! Please, please... allow me to be your humble servant for a few spare coins," Berret begged.  
The Master Shrike turned and regarded him with a look of undisguised disgust. The fabric dealer sensing his client's ire rising moved to shag Berret away before he cost him further sales.  
"Hey you, filthy beggar! Be off with you before I call the Patrol and have you hauled away to work-camp!" shouted the dealer.  
Berret ignored the man as any good street person would in that situation.  
"Who are you to decide what a important person like the Great Sir, needs or doesn't needs?" Berret retorted, copying the improper language he'd heard others using. He turned back to the Master Shrike. "Please, Great Lord. Don't turns me away. I haven't eaten for days. I'm be an honest man and all I ask is to earn a few credits by carrying your bundles for you." Berret waved an exuberant hand in the direction of the Triad. "Surly you don't expect your entourage to be carrying packages like the common worker drones? That wouldn't be the right for a man in your standing, especially when there are able body sorts like me-self that needs the work at hand."  
"More like you probably hadn't had a drink in days," muttered the dealer to himself and then he looked like he was about to tear into Berret again, but the ex-assassin saw that the Master was considering what he'd said... or rather the Master was considering how impressive he'd look wandering town with three bodyguards AND a baggage handler. What was it that one of the Crichtons was always saying? "Image is everything?"  
The Master cut off the outburst from the dealer with one raised hand before he could get started.  
"Yes, you have a point there," said the Master. "I'll pay you five credits to carry my purchases back to where I'm staying and not a drockket more."  
Berret nodded his head exuberantly in agreement at the deal. "Yes, Great Sir. You won't be the disappointed," he promised.  
The Master Shrike raised one graying eyebrow at Berret. "I'd had better not be," he told his new servant. "Do you know who I am?"  
Berret bowed his head in subservience. "You are a man of the great importance and my employer for the time being, Great Sir," he answered.  
The Master Shrike seemed to like this answer better then if Berret actually knew who he was. He visibly stood a bit taller and straightened his cloak out after brushing off a spec of road dust from it.   
"Just see that you remember that," he said with a stern look. "And see to it that none of my purchases mysteriously disappear because you will be held personally responsible if one does."  
"Yes, sir. I do understand."  
The Master nodded at Berret satisfied. He then glanced at the man's condition and then added as an after thought, "And try and not get anything dirty."  
The Master made several more buys while the dealer occasionally shot Berret glaring looks of disapproval.  
The ex-assassin was soon loaded down with all his burdens. He felt his microbes kick in as the weight increased but he made sure to bend a bit under the load so as to appear a normal man. He hoped the Master wasn't going to wander too much more around the street before returning to wherever he was staying. Berret knew he could carry the goods for a while but the longer his microbes worked he knew he'd pay for it later by being ravenous and having to eat a vast amount of food to settle the microbes again. The Master finally paid his sales bill and then turned to Berret.  
"Come along," he called. "And don't lag behind."  
"Yes, Great Sir," Berret replied dutifully and did his best to appear to be stepping lively as ordered.  
As they approached the Triad, the three Shrikes turned almost as one to face the Master.  
"Proceed," the Master ordered with a nodded of his head in the direction down the street that they had been headed in before the stop. The three Shrikes turned and walked ahead of the Master. Berret considered they must have made quite a site now. The three bodyguards making way for the Master that followed them while the lowly servant tagged along at the rear with an armload of packages. The Master Shrike was probably in his glory now that everyone seen him as a man of some importance. Berret didn't care... as long as there was a good chance that this Master could lead him to where the summit was taking place, and Arckatius.  
  
Andar found Chiana sitting out on Moya's terrace alone. As he stepped out into what appeared to be open space and onto Moya's outside hull he suppressed an involuntary shiver. He'd only been out on the terrace once before and the feeling that he could fall off Moya never left him. With Sean it was the feeling that he should be sucked off into the vacuum of space to a grisly death from explosive decompression. Andar more then understood the physics involved but with him it was the slight fear of falling... and falling forever that filled him. The crew rarely used the terrace as it cost Moya more energy resources to hold the tiny bubble of air and heat to support her crewmembers while they were outside on it. Pilot had told him the Nebari was out there and that Moya had gladly granted Chiana's request to be allowed to use the terrace for a little while, believing that most other places aboard the Leviathan might hold a past memory of Berret's time aboard and further depressing the gray woman.  
The girl was sitting on one of the benches that rose up out of Moya's hull when the terrace was in use with her back to the portal access-way while gazing up at the stars, obviously lost in deep thought somewhere.  
Andar liked the Nebari girl; she was one of the most interesting members of the crew. While most of the others saw her as an annoying child much of the time and he'd heard the term "brat" applied to her on more than one occasion, he saw the same potential in her that he saw in many of his more exuberant students back home. His secret back then was to take that restless potential and focus it in a single direction, but that was back when the world made sense, it had rules and it followed a certain order. But since his abduction there where now many worlds and most of them didn't make sense. There were now no rules, and order had been replaced with chaos. Suddenly he found that unfocused potential was now a useful thing... especially when your focus was constantly changing from day to day as you're trying your best to stay alive. He liked Chiana because of her unfocused quality and they way she was able to adapt to any situation in an instant. It was a quality he was working hard to emulate and assimilate into his own ever-growing survival skills. Those aliens that had stolen him from his home had left him with a head full of knowledge but the stuff needed for day to day living out here in the Territories still needed to be learned the old fashion way... by watching and following the example of his crewmates. He almost chuckled out loud at that thought as he remembered some of the disasters his friends ideas had gotten them into. What was it D'argo always said? Oh yes, "A plan this bad could only come from us." Well, that was true in a sense, but they'd so far always managed to get out of things less the worse for wearing as John says.  
He had to admit to himself, if given the chance to return home again he didn't think he could do it. This life of living on the edge... this taste for adventure had grown as addictive as his thirst for more knowledge. He had seen things, gone places, and met beings that he'd only read about back home as works of fiction. He mentally cringed at the thought of his secret library of works of fantasy back home... the same books that if his colleagues knew he had a passion for reading in his spare time would have made him a laughing stock on the campus. Well, guess what gentlemen... extra-terrestrial beings do exists and they are kidnapping teachers and messing around with their brains. Oh and by the way, meet my new working colleagues... but don't mind that two are actually floral based life forms, one is an annoying aquatic ruler of over six billion subjects, three are from a part of the universe we've never heard of or will be able to see even with your most powerful telescopes, another has a slight pigment deficiency but gray looks good on her away. That nice looking woman with the big gun, sorry to tell you but we're dissented from her space-faring ancestors, and that rather big brutish looking fellow is from a race of warriors, so try and not mind so much when the stray tentacle or two falls into your soup bowl.   
Andar heaved a silent sigh... nope; he didn't think he'd ever be happy going back to that limited life.  
He took a few more tentative steps forward remembering to keep orientated on the lines of Moya's hull as if they were a horizon. At least this way if he didn't look in the wrong direction he wouldn't feel as if he'd fall up. It constantly amazed him how the others could be so at ease out on the open terrace, then again, most of them were born to space-faring races... he hadn't been.  
As he drew nearer to Chiana's position he realized she was absently humming a familiar tune to herself. It took him a few microts but he finally remembered it... it had been a favorite when he first heard it some time back. Without thinking he began to speak the lyrics out loud.  
  
"...And maybe, I'll find out.  
A way to make it back someday.  
To watch you, to guide you, through the darkest of your days..."  
  
Chiana started slightly at his voice and turned in her seat to face him.  
"Oh, Andar... I didn't hear you come out," she said to the Sebacean teacher. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch what you just said."  
Andar gave her a gentle smile. It was telltale sign that Chiana had chosen that particular song whether by choice or unconsciously... she was taking Berret's leaving hard.  
"It was just the lyrics to the song you were humming," he told her. "It was "Wherever you will go" by an old Sebacean artist named Camino Palmero. There's a copy of it in Moya's database."  
Chiana smiled weakly back up at him. "Yeah, I know. That's where I heard it," she said and than added a few more lines in a soft voice.  
  
  
  
"...If a great wave shall fall and fall upon us all.  
Then I hope there's someone out there.  
Who can bring me back to you."  
  
Andar nodded his head in appreciation. The girl had a sweeter singing voice than he would have expected and he was mildly surprised that she would have listened to music by composers such as Palmero. She had struck him as the type who would have only liked that loud head-pounding dance music that they played at most of the taverns they'd stopped at. The Nebari gave him another half-strangled smile and moved over slightly to make room for him on the bench.  
"I know... kinda silly to be sitting out here and humming a sad "we're separated" song" she said.  
Andar pursed his lips and than shook his head to say he didn't find the act all that strange.  
"No, I don't think so... as long as you miss him," he answered. "Pilot said you were out here. I thought I'd check and see if you were all right."  
Chiana nodded and gazed back off at the stars overhead. "I just don't understand why he did it?" she said a moment later. "Sometimes I think I know him and sometimes he's... a stranger. I don't know why he does anything."  
Andar listened and than smiled tightly. "Maybe you should just stop trying to understand him and just accept him," he offered. Chiana turned from the star-scape to silently regard her crewmate. "I'm sure he thinks the same thing about you... and the rest of us. Hezmana, I know you all confuse the drez out of me sometimes but I've learned to just accept it and move on despite it."  
Chiana turned back to look at the stars.  
"Even when he does something as frelled up as this?" she asked a few microts later.  
Andar shrugged. "Maybe especially when he does something as frelled as this... I dunno," he said. "I went with him to help save John and got to know him better than I did before that, but I can't pretend to know why he does the things he does or why he left. I don't believe he did it to purposely put us in danger but I can't say he gave us any thought in the matter either." He stole a glance out of the corner of his eye at the girl to gage her reaction to his next question. "Why do you think he did it?"  
Chiana bit her lip and spent a few moments considering the query.  
"To kill Arckatius, I guess," she answered a short time later.  
Andar shook his head in the negative. "Nope, that's his objective," the Sebacean replied. "My question was... why do YOU THINK he did it?"  
Chiana reconsidered her thought and then shook her head. "That's what I've been sitting out here trying to figure out," she said. "Revenge is probably part of it. Maybe he feels it's the right thing to do and that it has to be done. Maybe he has something to prove to himself?"  
"Or somebody?" asked Andar.  
"Or somebody," agreed Chiana. "I dunno either. It could be he got homesick and decided to drop in on the Scarren homeworld to say hello for all I know"  
"Exactly," added Andar, "Its not easy to put yourself that far into somebody else's combat boots.  
"So you think the only thing we can do is... accept it then and not try to figure it out?"  
Andar shrugged. "It works for me... sometimes," he answered, thinking of Malika. His thoughts turning to the young Delvian for a moment, Andar recalled the first time he'd seen the alien woman, as he emerged scared and ill from his stolen shuttlecraft. The voice he'd heard coming over the ship's comm speaking a halting old Sebacean dialect had not prepared him for the shock of seeing the strange being in the hanger bay. At first he thought his sickness was causing him to hallucinate but no matter how hard he tried to refocus his blurring eyes, the woman's appearance never changed. It was then it hit him... this was like one of his fiction novels about space travel; only he was really there living it in real life. The thought that Malika might have been an alien princess who had rescued him passed through his mind and he felt himself getting giddy over the thought. She was certainly beautiful enough to be a princess. The fancy was struck from his head as the huge bay doors rumbled open and his new world tilted again. The two normal looking Sebacean males waiting there with draw weapons weren't too much of a shock. He'd imagined that he might not have been overly concerned about the gray woman sitting beside him now at the time if he had seen her tucked away under cover with her pulse rifle. After all, if he can accept a blue space princess, a monochrome female wouldn't have been a much bigger stretch for his imagination. What had been a little unnerving was the immense Luxan warrior standing there with the equally immense weapon growling at him in a guttural tongue. It was then he realized that the voices shouting throughout the bay were in different languages and he knew he was as far out of his natural element as he could possibly be. The Blue princess called for his waning attention again and even though he was sweating he suddenly felt chilled. The bay began to spin and he felt as if someone had emptied his body of all its blood and he couldn't follow what the woman was saying to him. He remembered falling and something catching him, then the sound of more shouting and pounding boots. The next thing he remembered was waking up in the med-bay some time later able to understand the beings around him. And as they say, the rest is all history. Now he couldn't imagine a day without these people around him.  
Chiana must have sensed his thoughts about the Delvian girl and gave him a tired smile.  
"Sometimes I forget you're not from around here either," she told the man. "To most of us this is how things have always been. Traveling space, visiting planets... running from the law." She said the last part with a sideward glance at the ex-teacher to see if he caught the joke, he did and she was rewarded with a slight chuckle from the man. "We take things for granted that are new to some of you. The Crichtons are use to a primitive form of space travel. You and Berret were brought out here against your will. I guess we shouldn't just assume you all can handle the ideas like the rest of us do."  
"I think that would be a wise assumption," Andar answered while stealing a glance straight up at open space. "However, we are adapting but there are still some things we have trouble understanding. Sometimes its best to just accept what is until you learn enough to reason it out."  
"So I should try the same principle with dealing with Berret?" she asked. "Just accept some things until I learn more enough about him to understand why he thinks the way he does?"  
"That would be my suggestion," Andar responded. "It's no guarantee, but it's the best anyone can do. I don't believe that anyone can truly know everything about another person but I believe that you can reach a point where you can feel relatively safe with what you do know?"  
Chiana sighed. "Sometimes I have almost no idea what you're talking about. But I get the feeling you use the 'accept principle' quite a bit so I guess you must have it worked out pretty good by now."  
The Sebacean man gave her a tight smile and shrugged both shoulders.  
"It's a hard concept to truly explain, but I thought you might benefit from hearing it," he told her. "Perhaps Zhaan can explain it or something similar more clearly. I'm afraid my expertise lays more in the sciences than in psychology."  
Chiana waved the idea off. "Zhaan's already tried to reassure me with her Goddess' will and 'fate destine to be' lectures. No, I think maybe you hit it right on the head. When it comes down to it, you're closer to being in the same situation to Berret than any of us. Even if you can't tell me why he did it... at least you gave me an idea of how to cope with what he's doing. Thank you."  
Chiana reached over and took Andar's hand in gratitude. Andar gave her had a squeeze back in support.  
They went back to gazing at the stars. Surprisingly, the longer he remind out on the terrace, the more at ease with the starlit space Andar became. He'd done his best to relate his thoughts to the Nebari girl, now his own mind started to kick around statements the others were saying about the current situation.  
"Do you think it'll be as bad as they say," he asked a few microns later.  
"If 'Ret makes it to wherever he's going and does whatever he has planned? I dunno," she responded.  
Andar's lips drew into a thin line across his features.  
"Malika thinks it will be," he said.  
"Has she said anything more?"  
Andar shook his head. "No, nothing. She's locked herself in her lab and will not answer the door or her comm. Pilot says she's moving around in there but she has disabled all the holo-comms so he can't see what she's doing."  
"Do you think she's up to something?" Chiana asked with a frown.  
Andar first answered with another shrug. "Maybe," he finally said. "Its hard to tell. Sometimes when she's angry or in a mood she wants to be alone."  
Chiana relaxed. That type of behavior she understood to some degree. She herself had countless boltholes around Moya to hide in when she wanted to be alone or just needed time to think.   
"Then I guess the only thing any of us can do is wait and see what happens," she said.  
Andar silently nodded in agreement but Chiana found herself not liking that option more by the microt. 


	4. Chapter 3

Chiana hit the ignition switch for what seemed like the hundredth time and still nothing happened.  
"Frell!" she cursed and than opened the canopy to climb out of Aeryn's Prowler. Once outside the ship she leaned back in to peer under the control panel to see if she could discover what was wrong. She knew how to fly the attack ship but diagnosing systems failures was a little beyond her. Still, it couldn't hurt to take a look and see if maybe she could discover what the problem was by sheer chance. Maybe she'd luck out and it would be something obvious like a loose or disconnected wire under the panel.  
She was probing under the panel with her legs dangling half out of the cockpit when the cool voice outside the Prowler startled her and made her bump her head.  
"Planning on going somewhere, Chiana?"  
"Ouch!" cried the Nebari as she struck her head and half fell from the Prowler only to discover Aeryn standing there in front of her with her arms folded across her chest.  
"Aeryn!" exclaimed Chiana as she scrambled back to her feet, "I was... I was..." she stuttered trying to think up an excuse to explain why she appeared to be attempting to steal the ex-Peacekeeper's gunship.  
"Let me guess," Aeryn broke in before she could think up a plausible lie. "You were giving my Prowler a good cleaning?"  
"Well, I..." began the Nebari once again.  
"I know what you were doing, Chiana," Aeryn cut her off with a meaningful glance downward toward the packed bag at the Nebari's feet. Chiana sighed and threw up her shoulders in defeat knowing she was caught. "You weren't going anywhere without this," continued Aeryn as she held up circuit rod. "This is the ignition control module for my Prowler and unfortunately there are no other spare control modules aboard Moya at this time."  
Chiana darted a glance over at Malika's Prowler, which Aeryn caught.   
"I have also removed the same component from the other Prowler and Pilot has locked down all the Pods. As a further precaution, John and Sean have also disabled their ships by removing similar parts."  
Chiana looked off to one side in despair for a microt and than back at the Sebacean woman with a plea in her eyes.   
"Aeryn, please. You have to let me go after him," she said.  
"Chiana... no, I do not," Aeryn told her.  
"He might need me!" the Nebari girl exclaimed. "Its my life, my choice. What do you care if I go or not?"  
Aeryn looked momentarily hurt that her shipmate would ask that question after all this time together.  
"When I was a Peacekeeper," she began, "I watched people I grew-up with, trained with, lived with everyday, die in the course of duty. And I didn't care because that was just how it was meant to be. So you could imagine if I could let my own kind die without a second thought back then, how much the life of one Nebari girl wouldn't have mattered to me."  
Chiana tilted her head to one side wondering what this had to do with Aeryn preventing her from going after Berret.  
"I'm not that same Peacekeeper anymore, Chiana," said Aeryn. "Believe it or not, I am your friend... and I cannot stand by and let you do something that will probably get you killed. I've lost enough people I cared about in my life... I don't want to lose you too."  
The Nebari woman paused, never believing she'd ever hear Aeryn admit to feeling that way about her. Still she felt she had to push on with her desire to go after the ex-assassin who'd become part of her own life... and who she didn't want to lose.  
"What about Berret? Isn't he your friend too?" she asked the Sebacean.  
Aeryn slowly nodded. "Yes... he is my friend also," she admitted. "But it's too late for me to do anything to stop him. The only thing I can do for him is hope he either succeeds and kills all his enemies or that he decides conditions aren't right and aborts his mission and returns."  
"There's little hope of that," Chiana said with a shake of her head. "I know him enough to know that he'll go through with it even if he knows he'll die trying."  
"All the more reason to keep you from following him," Aeryn replied. "I'm sure if he knew it would lead to that, that he wouldn't want you there with him."  
Chiana took a step forward and grabbed the ex-Peacekeeper by the arm. An act, which Aeryn knew because of her training, that Chiana wouldn't have done lightly due to the possibility of the ex-soldier reacting instinctively and maybe injuring her accidentally. The only one who touched her without thinking was John, but she had gotten use to the human's ways and had trained herself not to respond to his contact with force unless he needed a lesson taught to him... which was becoming rare lately.  
"Don't you see!" cried Chiana, "That's exactly why I have to go. If I'm there with him..." she lowered her voice and the intensity of her look increased, "...he might give up on the idea and come home before anything happens."  
Aeryn could see Chiana's reasoning, but she also knew something about the emotions in play there. They weren't the gentler emotions John had been trying to awaken in her and prove she possessed. They were darker base emotions... the only emotions as a Peacekeeper she had officially been encouraged to develop.  
"I'm afraid not, Chiana," she finally said. "Revenge is a strong driving force. You being there probably will not change Berret's mind about what he's going to do."  
"Be he..." Chiana started to debate.  
"Face it, Chiana!" Aeryn barked hard. "He left! He left Moya... he left us... and he left you. You running after him will not change anything. He's already made his decision... and he chose vengeance."  
Aeryn's tone softened as she saw the girl visibly deflate. "The only thing we can do for him now is wait and see what happens. Maybe he will come to his senses and come back before it's too late." She reached out and took the other woman by her shoulders gently and with compassion. "Maybe the bond you have with him will be strong enough to make him change his mind... but I... we, can't let you go after him no matter what. It would be suicide for you."  
After a few microts Chiana silently nodded to the other woman. Aeryn tried to give her a reassuring smile but it came out as strained as she felt. The ex-Peacekeeper still wasn't comfortable with letting her guard down and letting others see how she truly felt about them. She padded the Nebari's shoulder one last time and turned to leave the hanger bay, secure in the knowledge that Chiana wouldn't be able to steal any of the ships there to leave Moya in pursuit of the Shrike. Chiana watched Aeryn leave.   
"But what if its that same bond between us that's driving Berret to do what he's done?" she murmured to the woman's departing back. They didn't know him as well as she did. She knew what he blamed himself for and she knew that he punished himself for it by denying himself the closeness she was sure they could have. By not going after him, she was sure it would be the same thing as if she were giving credence to his belief... and she'd be damned to hezmana if she'd ever do that willingly.   
  
An arn later, Aeryn quietly closed the storage locker door and cat-footed around a row of stacked crates in the storage bay... only to run smack into John cat-footing from the opposite direction of the massive room.  
Both crewmates were so startled by the other's sudden appearance that they cried out the same wordless exclamation of surprise and dropped the items they were carrying.  
"Aeryn!"  
"Crichton! Frell!"  
"Jesus, Aeryn... you scared me half to death!" John exclaimed. "What are you doing creeping around in here?"  
"Me?" asked the ex-Peacekeeper. "What are YOU doing slinking around in the storage bay?"  
"Me?" echoed Crichton. "I'm - I'm just looking for a... a replacement light filament for my quarters. I had one burn out. What about you?"  
"Really?" answered Aeryn in a tone of disbelief as she started picking through some of the things he'd dropped. "A light filament?" she continued as she held up an object. "And what? You were going to use a Ion grenade to replace it with?"  
Crichton harrumphed and pick up an item that fell from her armload.   
"And I suppose you were going to use this plasma charge as a door stop?" he retorted.  
Aeryn frowned deeply knowing they had caught each other.  
"Let's cut the dren, John. We both know what the other was doing," she said.  
Crichton nodded. "Going after Berret," he admitted. "I know we all agreed that he was on his own... but I decided I couldn't let it go like that. Why are you here?"  
"Same reason," Aeryn said. "Seeing we've both decided to break our word to the others we might as well join up and go together."  
John nodded in agreement. "Sounds good to me. I hate to admit it but I wasn't looking forward to going all alone and I'd feel better knowing you have my back."  
Aeryn began to scoop up the dropped equipment. "Well, now that that's settled, I think we need a plan before..." She cut herself off suddenly and cocked her head to one side. "Listen. Did you hear that?"  
John indicated that he hadn't heard anything. "I thought I heard a voice... over there."  
Aeryn led the human deeper into the isles of crates toward the opposite doorway of Moya's huge bay.  
"I caught Chiana trying to steal my Prowler about an arn ago," she whispered to John. "I wonder if she's up to something else?"  
A few microts later and Crichton could hear the voices. They approached a crate and ducked down behind it before cautiously peering around one edge. On the other side were Andar and Malika engaged in a heated discussion.  
"I don't know why I let myself be talked into this hair-brained scheme," hissed the Delvian irately.   
"You can stay here if you want," replied the Sebacean.  
"I am NOT going to let you go off without me," Malika said. "Goddess, you need someone with some intelligence making sure you don't get yourself killed right away with this stupid plan of yours."  
Andar gave her a one-sided frown. "I appreciate your confidence in me," he said sarcastically.  
"I still don't understand why we have to go after Berret... he made his decision," the girl muttered to herself out loud. "No, not that one!" she continued to Andar. "I said sulfite, not chlorite."  
Andar replaced the chemical container he held in his hand and selected the correct one the Delvian wanted from the rack.  
"We're going because he would go if it were one of us," the ex-teacher responded as he handed over the metal storage container. The Delvian placed it carefully in a shoulder bag. The urn clicked metallically against a number of others already in Malika's bag.  
"How can you be so sure?" Malika asked. "You have no idea what you're risking."  
Andar gave her a look of infinite patience. "Have a little faith, Malika," he said.  
"I have faith... that we're going to die with that lame-brained Shrike this time."  
Aeryn had heard enough. "Bloody hezmana!" she swore, "Isn't anyone aboard this ship going to follow orders?" she muttered to Crichton. Before John could stop her, she rose up from their hiding place and confronted the other couple. With nothing else he could do, Crichton followed her out.  
"Just what the dren do you two think you're doing?" she demanded.  
Both the Delvian and Sebacean jumped at Aeryn's sudden appearance.   
"Aeryn! John... hi," started Andar, "Um? What are you two doing here?"  
Malika just looked from Aeryn to John to Andar... and then back to Aeryn again not knowing what to say.  
"Never mind what we're doing here," Aeryn told him stubbornly, "I want to know what the two of you are doing?"  
"Well... you see..." started the Sebacean man.  
"HEY, GUYS!"  
The sudden shout interrupted whatever Andar was going to say as Sean materialized from between an isle of stacked storage containers.  
"I found the primer cord..." Sean began to Andar and Malika and then noticed Aeryn and John's arrival, "But I didn't find that... chess set I made and put away in here somewhere," he tried to make the save. "I'll be damned if I can remember what I did with it. I guess I'll have to teach you guys to play some other time." He gave his relative and the Sebacean female his best disarming smile. "Hi, John... Aeryn. What brings you guys down here?"  
Aeryn gave him a look that said she couldn't believe he thought she'd ever buy his act while John shook his head. "It figures," the elder Crichton muttered.  
The smile dropped from Sean's face, but ever the optimist... he asked innocently,  
"What?"  
  
"Pilot!" shouted D'argo, "I demand that you release this Transport Pod from lock-down... immediately!"  
Pilot sighed heavily and shook his head so rapidly that his holo image blurred as it tried to keep up with his sudden movements.  
"For the final time, Ka'D'Argo," replied the Leviathan's helmsman, "Moya and I refuse to let any of you do anything foolish on your own unless the rest of the crew agrees that such action is the only option left. We regret having to take these measures but we believe cooler heads should prevail in this case."  
The Luxan growled and swore roughly at the hologram. Zhaan, dressed in her traveling robes and headscarf held up one hand to keep the warrior from blowing up further at Pilot.  
"Pilot, please be reasonable," the Priestess asked. "D'argo and I are the logical choices to attempt to retrieve Berret. Surely you see that?"  
Pilot tilted his head and his big eyes grew momentarily larger in the image.  
"No, Zhaan. Neither Moya nor I see it that way."  
"Pilot..." the Delvian began only to see Pilot frown deeply as he obviously was regarding something off screen at his station in the Den. "You must let us leave," continue Zhaan despite Pilot being distracted by something else. "We have to leave quickly before the others find out what D'argo and I have planned and want to accompany us. It would be too dangerous for all of us to go after Berret, this way the risk to the group will be minimal. Pilot? Pilot? Are you listening to me?"  
"Ah-rummmmmm..." Pilot muttered in annoyance as he turned to look back at Zhaan in the holo-comm. "Of course I am listening to you, Zhaan," he said. "As for the others finding out about what you and D'argo are up to... I believe you both should start heading to the Center Chamber to meet the rest of the crew. It appears that you are not the only ones who had the same idea. Both Crichtons and the rest seem to be having a heated discussion that originated in one of Moya's storage bays and has now moved to the Center Chamber."  
"That's just great, Pilot," spat D'argo. "Just what we need to do... sit around and argue among ourselves some more. Now is the time for action, not words. You should have released the Pod and let Zhaan and I go."  
Pilot appeared unruffled by the Luxan's ire.  
"Should you and the rest agree upon a course of action that Moya and I also agree with," responded Pilot, "We will release the Pods and the hanger bay doors."  
"And if you and Moya don't agree with any plan we come up with?" asked the warrior.  
Pilot pursed his lips before he answered.  
"As long as the rest of the crew is in agreement to make the attempt to find Berret, Moya and I will support whatever decisions you make as a group," Pilot told him. "We will not however, allow any small groups or individuals to head out on their own without the entire group's knowledge."  
Zhaan slightly bowed her head in acknowledgement. "As always, you are correct in this matter, Pilot. Correct... and perhaps, more wise in this instants."  
"Thank you, Zhaan," replied the hologram. "As I said before... Moya and I regret having to interfere but after observing other incidents in the past... we believe that it would be in everyone's best interest if the crew pulled together as a crew in this situation and worked together."  
"Of course," answered the Delvian. "D'argo and I will now go and meet with the rest to discuss our options."  
Pilot nodded his head. "Chiana is still in her quarters. I will inform her to meet you all in the Center Chamber then."  
"Thank you, Pilot," said Zhaan as they turned and left the hanger bay.  
  
Chiana sluggishly got off her bed after Pilot's summons to the Center Chamber to meet the rest of the group. "Big deal, more talk," she thought to herself. Everyone will "discuss" what to do about Berret but in the end, they'll all decided to sit here and do nothing. She almost decided to ignore the call to the meeting and remain locked in her quarters, but then she thought she might as well attend in case there was a slim chance of swaying any of them to her way of thinking.  
Putting on her boots, she started for the door of her room when something on her clothes chest caught her eye. Going to the chest she found a slip of folded paper that she didn't remember placing on the piece of furniture. It stuck her odd that it would be there, as she rarely needed to write anything down for any reason. Living on the run taught you to keep all the important stuff in your head where you couldn't leave it behind, lose it, or have it fall into the wrong hands. She unfolded the sheet and gasped as she realized it was from Berret. Her eyes quickly scanned the paper and then reread it slower a second time.  
  
Chiana,  
  
By the time you find this, you will have realized where I have  
gone. I left this note in your quarters with the hope that you  
will have had time to be less angry with me for what I did to  
you in my quarters. I am sorry, I never meant to hurt or betray   
you, but it was necessary. I knew you would either try and stop  
me or accompany me. I could have neither as you know... where  
I am going, you cannot follow.  
I regret the loss of your company for the last few weeks and for  
not having the chance to say goodbye. I hope you will find  
some way to forgive me. I thank you for returning my life  
to me and allowing me to know freedom one last time.  
Please understand that I must do this... that I must settle  
the debts I owe for this life and Arckatius must be stopped  
no matter what the cost. Please give the others my apologizes  
and my thanks. Tell Zhaan that I hope to leave her Goddess'  
worlds a better place at my passing. I hope she's right and its  
possible to earn a place in her afterlife and to atone for the  
misdeeds of this life. I will do my best to make a proper account  
of myself.  
I can think of nothing else to say. I wish you the happiness you  
search for, a safe place far from harm's reach, and all the love   
you tried to teach me. I know I wasn't a good student, but I  
hope I learned enough to have made this choice for the right  
reasons.  
Again, live long, stay safe... and maybe think of me occasionally  
in good thoughts as I shall hold you in mine,  
  
Berret  
  
  
  
Chiana looked at the note and then crumpled it up in her hands without thinking.  
"Oh... you frelling... idiot," she moaned. 


	5. Chapter 4

The ex-assassin folded the news-script in half and went on pretending to read it as he watched the building across the street over the edge of the tabloid. It was the same unmarked structure that Berret had followed the Master Shrike and the Triad to in his guise as a beggar. He'd gone back to the hidden Wraith scout-ship and after cleaning up and donning more respectable clothing, had taken a room in the hostel next to the café he was now sitting at. Luck had smiled on him not only in the fact that there happened to be the rooming house and open-air café across from the building, but that he hadn't left all his currency with Chiana aboard Moya.  
In the last solar day he'd managed to identify several Syndicate messengers coming and going from the building. He'd followed three of them and discovered the lair of two more Syndicate families but neither one was Arckatius or his people. Both residences belonged to lower-cast Houses. At one point during the morning the same Master that had hired Berret to carry his packages left the building to cross the street and enter the café where the ex-assassin sat. The Master looked right at Berret but failed to recognize him as the street person from the day before. While the man was pompous and arrogant, Berret didn't underestimate him in the slightest. He hadn't gotten to his position in his Syndicate House by being totally slack, so Berret made it a point to change his seat and to return to his room to change his clothing every few arns so as to be harder to notice.  
He watched a recognizable messenger enter the building for the second time that morning. The Shrike leaned back in his chair and wondered idly if these Syndicate members were going to do anything but sit inside their stronghold. An almost familiar laugh at another table caught his attention and he glanced that way to find a young Nebari woman sporting the same popular fashion of bobbed hair as Chiana. The woman had her head close to a male being with red skin, whispering something into his multi-lobed ear. The male responded to whatever she was saying with a hearty laugh and leaned in to murmur into her ear in turn. The girl's glossy black lips parted in a wide smile and she began to giggle as she reached for his hand. The Nebari's eyes settled on Berret as she realized they had attracted his attention. The ex-assassin became conscious of the fact that he was staring after the girl gave him a sly smile and he turned back to his news-script to leave the couple what privacy they could expect in a public place.  
He tried to ignore the dull ache in his chest that he knew had to do with another Nebari female. He found himself wishing he hadn't ignored Chiana the last few weekens he remained aboard Moya, especially when it had been so obvious that she wanted his attention. Instead he had concentrated on training and preparing for this trip to find Arckatius. In place of taking his leave of her in a civilized manner, he had tricked and paralyzed her with diluted Seth-viper venom, leaving the sting of a needle her last memory of him. No, he thought to himself. If he could do something so cold and underhanded to someone who was suppose to be his friend, he didn't deserve someone like Chiana in his life. Arckatius and the Black Syndicate had made him and countless others into what they were. How many other innocents would suffer and have their lives effected because of the Syndicate and it's Enforcers? How many lives like Malika's scarred? Berret couldn't blame the young Delvian for hating him and all Shrikes. How could he expect anything less when even he hated himself?   
He was so deep in thought and self-recrimination that he almost missed him. The tall being in the PK-like duster just caught his notice as it exited the doorway across the street. Berret gave him a second look and realized the man was the Master Shrike in disguise. The Master Shrike turned and headed down the street in the opposite direction that the other messengers had all come from or returned in. "This is interesting," Berret thought to himself. Expectation rose in the ex-assassin as he casually got to his feet and began to follow the other Shrike. If the master was leaving without his escort and Shrike garb, he must be heading somewhere he didn't want to call attention to. This was something definitely worth looking into considered Berret while he blended into the multitude of beings filling the busy street as he trailed the Master.  
  
Chiana rested her head on her arms as she stared out the port window in the Center Chamber. The crew's mess was at the very top of Moya's tiers and she was able to follow the lines of the enormous Leviathan's hull as it curved down and away from her. She did her best to ignore the rest of the troupe sitting around the table yelling at each other. Her slight hope that the others might actually agree to go after Berret died as they started to snipe and squabble with each other over the many clandestine plans that had been made. D'argo shouted at Aeryn over who was best qualified to lead a retrieval attempt, while Sean and John faced off over Sean's part in Andar and Malika's plot. The younger Crichton brisling with irritation over the elder man's apparent belief that he could dictate his young relative's actions. The two Delvian's sat off at one end of the table in a heated debate, where strangely, Malika seemed to be defending her half-hearted part in the scheme with enthusiasm. Rygel sat at middle of the table trying to follow each conversation with amused delight while occasionally stuffing his face with food cubes. Andar spent his time running between the separate factions adding the odd opinion in support of his plan, which usually earned him a rude comment from one party or another and several angry growls from the Luxan. The only other person not taking part in the chaos was Pilot, who observed the proceedings from the clamshell holo-comm just above Chiana's head. The Nebari glanced up and caught the helmsman's eye and frowned despondently. Pilot returned her sulk in equal measure, but there was nothing more he could offer the girl in way of support. She turned her eyes to stare back out of the port.  
A few microns later, tired of the clamor, she got up from her seat and left the Center Chamber unnoticed by the rest. She wandered Moya's corridors for a while and soon found herself in Maintenance Bay One. A holo-comm shimmered into life and Pilot excitedly called for her attention.  
"What is it, Pilot?" she asked glumly.  
"There is a incoming transmission," Pilot told her.  
"Tell one of the others," Chiana responded with a dismissing wave of one gloved hand. "I don't want to be bothered right now."  
Pilot's eyes grew larger as he insisted, "I cannot. They insist they wish to speak only with you."  
Chiana paused; hope building in her voice. "Me? Is it 'Ret?" she asked with excitement edging her voice.  
"No," Pilot responded with a hint of regret for having to disappoint her. "It is... someone else."  
Chiana visibly deflated and then scowled wondering who could be asking to speak with her. She was never the one to speak for the rest of the crew when they made contact with anyone else. There was only one way to find out so she nodded to Pilot.  
"Okay, put them through down here," she requested.  
"Transferring the signal to your tier now," Pilot replied while he worked some of the levers at his station. "The transmission is encoded so I apologize for the signal quality."  
Chiana nodded silently and Pilot's vintage faded to be replaced by a burst of static on the holo-comm.  
"Chiana?" a fuzzy voice asked and then the picture suddenly settled somewhat to reveal the wrinkled face of an old Delvian man.  
"Shenna?" asked the stunned Nebari girl. "Master Shenna? Is that you?"  
The picture jumped and cleared to having only the occasional bar of static running a crossed it. It was the old Delvian Shrike Grandmaster.  
"Yes, how are you little Nebari?" he asked jovially.  
Chiana stared open mouthed at the hologram for a few microts and then began to stutter, "What? How? I'm fine..." she then decided to forget the small talk and started to tell him what Berret had done as fast as she was able. As usual when she was excited, her sentences started to run together in one almost incomprehensible run-on sentence.  
Shenna held up both hands in the hologram and after a few microts managed to halt the young girl's barrage.  
"Peace, little one," he said. "We know what Berret has done."  
"You do?" Chiana said in surprise. Shenna nodded. "How?" she asked next.  
"How is not important," he explained. "What I need from you right this moment is some information... and your opinion."  
  
D'argo savagely slammed his fist into a container in frustration before turning to glare at the Nebari again.  
"You should not have given that man permission for this person to board Moya," he growled.  
Chiana folded her arms stubbornly. "Well, I did! So deal with it," she retorted.  
The Luxan looked as if he would literally explode just as Aeryn cut in.  
"Chiana, it wasn't prudent to give this Shenna person the okay to send his minion," said the Sebacean woman. "You should have checked with us first."  
Chiana threw up her arms in exasperation. "Talk, talk, talk! That's all you do," the Nebari shouted. "Holy Yotz but you're all getting as bad as the Crichtons!" She realized that both Sean and John were still in the room. "Sorry, no offense meant," she apologized in a calmer tone.  
"Oh... none taken, Pip," replied John somewhat coolly.  
Malika suddenly stopped in her pacing back and forth across the deck.  
"What the frell were you thinking letting him send another Shrike here," the Delvian demanded.  
Before Chiana could answer, Andar caught Malika's attention.  
"I thought you were more or less okay with Shenna?" he asked while Malika picked up her pacing again.  
The young Delvian completed another tour the deck before pausing in her pacing again to reply. "The old man... I think is relatively harmless. But I wouldn't make that assumption about another Enforcer... even one Shenna's willing to vouch for. We can't afford to trust any of them.  
"Malika dear, I know your concerns," said Zhaan, "but please calm yourself, we must think about this rationally. This person is already on the way and will be here within the arn. We must decide how we will handle things before then."   
"The best way to handle it is to starburst and not be here when that ship arrives," Malika countered.  
As Malika had spoken, Chiana saw a tiny smile break out across Rygel's lips. It was then she realized that the Hynerian had remained uncharacteristically quiet after she broke the news about giving Shenna permission to send one of his people to Moya to help with Berret.  
"What about you, Froggy?" she asked suspiciously. "How come you haven't thrown in your two credits worth?"  
The small smile faded from the Dominar's face as quickly as it had appeared.  
"What's there to say?" he asked. "What's done is done."  
He gave the group a waving dismissal of one regal hand and then sent his thronesled out the door while lightly humming to himself. Chiana suddenly had a strange feeling that Rygel was deeply pleased with himself... almost as if things were turning out exactly as he wanted them to.  
  
A few microns after Rygel left, the rest of the crew started to wander from the Center Chamber.   
John suggested the best plan that the group could come up with.   
"Play it by ear?" said Aeryn with a tone of incredulity as they left to head for Command.  
"Yeah. What's wrong with that?" asked the human.  
"Crichton! That is not a plan..." Aeryn's voice faded to an annoyed drone as they moved further down the corridor.  
Malika ripped off the scarf she'd tied her hair back with and combed her fingers through her indigo locks. She was somewhere lost in her thoughts when she realized Andar had not left the chamber with the others. She turned slightly to find the Sebacean man watching her intently and looking as if he had something on his mind. Andar folded his arms along his chest and casually strolled over to the Delvian.  
"So do you want to tell me what's bothering you?" he queried.  
"You mean, other than the fact we're up to our necks in assassins?" she shot back with more sarcasm then she originally intended.  
"Yes, I mean other than that," Andar said nonplused.  
"Do you really need any other reason?" she said, "Isn't that enough?"  
Andar looked as if he were considering her statement and then dismissed it. "Nope. I'm not buying that. Something else has got you on edge, so as Crichton says... tip it over."  
Malika rolled her eyes. "The phrase is... 'spill it'... and there's nothing to talk about."  
She made as if to leave the chamber but Andar caught her arm.  
"Malika, this is me... I know you well enough to know that you don't go all to pieces over anything. And certainly not in the face of a threat, even from a Shrike," Andar said. "You've been around Berret all this time and you lost your fear of him ages ago. Then there was that time when those three Enforcers got aboard Moya, that didn't phase you. What's going on now? Maybe I can help?"  
The Delvian shook her head. "Those three were from a lower Syndicate House, poorly equipped, poorly trained, and nothing like a Enforcer from a High Syndicate House like Berret was," she replied, "As for him... he's just... different. He keeps to himself and Chiana mostly. I can forget what he was and that he's here most of the time."  
Andar heaved a persevering sigh.  
"Still, you've trained with him," he countered. "You've been in enough battles with him to witness how efficient at killing he still is, seen him snap from the collar pathways and become unpredictable. Goddess only knows what you saw in his mind when you and Zhaan join with him to save his sanity. With all of that working against him, it seems to me that he's balanced on somewhat of a thin knife's edge most of the time between us and being a full-blown Enforcer again."   
Malika gave him a look that said she didn't quite see his point. Andar lifted an eyebrow and waited a microt to see if she'd figure out where he was heading. When she didn't offer any insight he continued.  
"With all that in mind, when it comes to our wayward knight in ebon armor," he said somewhere as if between lecturing a student and presenting evidence to a jury, "You - show - no - fear." He regarded her with searching eyes. "So what's got you so spooked about dealing with Shrikes this time that you can't sit down? I can believe you being wary and cautious, but not this unbalanced."   
Malika started tell the ex-teacher he'd hadn't a clue as to what he was frelling talking about. The retort died unspoken. Andar was just trying to help her and she knew he was right. Berret could be dangerous if he wanted or needed to be... and the collar pathways could make his behavior very unpredictable at any time. Though Zhaan seemed to think she'd helped him get a handle on them. When it came down to it really, they could all be a dangerous lot. D'argo was dangerous by nature, Aeryn by breeding and training, while Rygel got by on sheer deviousness. Zhaan, while peaceful by her nature and calling, was one of the most powerful beings Malika had even meet. Never in her or her mother's wildest dreams had she thought she be accepted as apprentice by a Pa'u of the tenth level, even if she was on the run. Malika herself had learned the art of violence in her time running from Peacekeepers. The man before her now had also become a quick student in the school of kill or be killed just as both Crichtons had. Even Chiana, when her trickery failed, could turn vicious in the blink of an eye if her life depended on it. Berret's only downfall was he was programmed for violence and the stigmata of having been a Syndicate Enforcer. Somewhere inside she realized this about the man and tried to look passed her abhorrence of Shrikes when dealing with him.  
"There's really nothing wrong, Andar," she said instead. "There's just too much going on and I'm getting a little overwhelmed."  
As soon as she said it, she didn't have to see the look on Andar's face to know that he knew she was lying.  
"Damn that man!" she thought inwardly. He was just too damn sharp-eyed and perceptive. If she hadn't known better, she'd swear that the ex-teacher had been a Peacekeeper Inquisitor at one time. She was preparing for another round of debate when Andar slowly nodded his head.   
"All right, Malika," he said as if beaten. "I don't know how to help you if you don't want to talk."  
Malika almost stepped back from the look on his face and the dejected tone in his voice. Andar could fix soon many things and machines with ease, often without really having to know what was exactly wrong with them to start with. The one area where his talent didn't reach was with people. He couldn't just look at one of his friends and know what had to be done to fix them or make them feel better. The Delvian could see the worry in his eyes and the helplessness he had to be feeling.  
"If you change your mind and you want to talk about whatever it is," he continued, "you know where you can find me." The Sebacean man did his best to offer her a smile but it came out strained. He squeezed her arm once before letting go and turned toward the door.  
"I don't think there's anything you can do about it," Malika heard herself say before she could think about it. She cringed inside, she'd meant to say something to sooth Andar's worries, not anything about what was troubling her beyond the current situation. Andar turned back to face her and waited patiently.   
"Its...ah, probably more in Zhaan's line anyway," she offered. "It's nothing really. I feel kind of dumb even thinking about it."  
Andar took a few steps back to her. "I'm listening," he said softly in encouragement.  
Malika drew in a deep breath. She's stepped in it with both feet so she might as well get it off her chest.  
"I've... I've been having dreams," she blurted out.  
"Dreams?" Andar repeated bewildered.  
"Yeah," she replied and swallowed hard, "very bad dreams." 


	6. Chapter 5

Soft warm lips nuzzling his throat gently pulled him from his slumber. He allowed himself a low moan of pleasure as they made their way slowly up his neck. When the reached the underside of his chin, they suddenly jumped upward and small perfect teeth took a playful nip at the point of his chin... bringing him almost fully awake in pleasant surprise. It had been awhile for them and he knew earlier that she had been having pleasurable dreams by the way she cuddled against him as she slept.  
Her searching lips found his mouth after she saw she'd succeeded in rousing him from his own dreams. Her silver-black lips hungrily work at him with her need while her tongue darted in to teasingly explore his mouth. His eyes opened to mere slits to find her gazing at him with a hazy far-away look, then she closed her eyes and renewed her oral attack as her hands started to undo his clothing. Clumsily he began to fumble at her own bedclothes... he was still unsure of these intimate game but he managed to get what he wanted. Her skin so pale gray it was almost white looked as if it should be cold to the casual touch... but it almost burned wherever she lay along touching his own bare skin.  
He tried to invade her mouth with his own tongue, but the assault only seem to excite her more and she responded by redoubling her own wanting fury. He felt his own body rise to the challenge.  
How easy it was for him to get lost in these times.  
Their union was like a journey into unreality. Nothing existed outside the room... nothing was real except what was happening on the bed. The only sound that mattered was her heavy breathing. The universe had shrunk to the size and dept of her glimmering black eyes... eyes that would never be found on another human.  
Things had changed between them. Instead of the usual intimate noises that had been the standard in the past, she had changed her litany.  
"Remember," she breathe in a sigh.  
She murmured the single word over and over. Not a request of passion but more like a plea.  
He hoped it wasn't coming. The request he didn't understand. The look in her eyes... the same plea that was in her husky low voice. He hugged her closer to him, knowing it do no good to ask - what?   
She freed herself from his embrace and increased the pace of their... recreation.  
"Remember," she murmured again... the plea deepening and more urgent then the first. He felt himself being left further behind somehow, even though his body was keeping measure with hers.  
He was lost... he couldn't "remember."  
The only thing that mattered was that she was close, and for a moment he had the dream. The feel of her body moving against his, her warm heaving breath in his face, the smell of her scent... the thunder of her heart making itself felt through his chest where she lay. This was all. Everything he wanted to remember. The dream he desperately wanted to live forever. What would always be denied him in the real world.  
She clutched at him as she neared her end, her limbs wrapping around his body, locking him tight against her. She buried her face along side his head as she shivered and shook. Over and over again into his ear...  
"Remember."  
She wore herself out against him and went limp... allowing him to use her body for a few moments more to complete his pleasure. He never really liked this part of their relations when it happened. It was almost as if something took over his body. He forgot for the moment and didn't think about her as he normally did. He was always afraid he would hurt her in his carelessness but she assured him it was natural and she would be all right. It pleased her when he enjoyed their time.  
Afterwards, he'd hoped she would stretch out beside him like she use to and they would talk about things. He'd always like that part best when she curled up next to him and she would say whatever came into her mind. Maybe he would learn what she wanted from him. It didn't happen like that. She still curled up with him... hugging him tight to her. Instead of talking, she buried her face into the side of his neck and idly stroked his flesh while she drifted back to sleep. She never said it... but it seemed that these recent intimate times left her with an empty satisfaction.  
He knew it'd be different for her... if only he could "remember."   
But he hadn't a clue.   
  
Berret awoke with a start. He'd had the dream again... oh, how he'd come to hate it. Chiana wanting him to remember the time they had been close to having a real relationship. Before Zhaan says he was taken and almost made a slave again by some low-class gangster types... something he couldn't remember. How could the Nebari woman ever want him? With so much innocent blood on his hands. After what he did to her before he left, how could she not feel betrayed? He was what he was... a murderer, a killer, a betrayer.  
Chiana's gentle soul, already harried by a chaotic life, should not be tainted by his touch.  
Besides he was close now. This afternoon the Master Shrike had led him to where several Higher Houses were being quartered. It was there that he was sure that he would find Arckatius and finally have his vengeance. Make the Scarren pay for what he'd turned Berret into, what he'd taken away from him.  
Now was not the time to be thinking of the impossible... of Chiana and things better off not remembered.  
He rolled out of his rented bed and walked over to the small table that had several items and tools spread out on it. He reached down and picked up the control collar. He'd spent arns cleaning the scorch marks off it and Chiana had unwittingly explained enough about the locking mechanism to allow him to alter the lock so he could remove it in a moment's notice without a key wand. Andar had supplied him with a simple circuit that allowed the status lights on the control device to be lit to give the collar the appearance that it was functioning. The Sebacean man had been a little more curious about the request but he bought the explanation that he was making a gift for Chiana and needed the circuit.  
Berret tossed the device back on the table. He wasn't looking forward to having the collar around his neck again even if it was dead. He would have to wear it if his ruse was to work getting him close enough to Arckatius to kill the Scarren. He turned from his makeshift worktable and head for his room's lavatory to shower and began a new day's surveillance.  
  
"I do not like this," D'argo said with a side look at Chiana.  
"None of us do, Darg. But we're stuck playing this hand," answered John from the other side of him.  
The crew was lined up in the hanger bay watching as the nondescript shuttle landed, waiting while Moya pressurized the docking bay.  
"I don't see what the big deal is about," said Sean from the other end of the line.  
"You would if you seen a Shrike on the hunt," answered Malika grimly. "They are designed to be almost unstoppable once after prey."  
Sean chortled. "Berret unstoppable?" he said, "Obviously you never played poker with him. He can't decide whether to fold or draw half the time."  
"This isn't a game!" Malika snapped irately.  
"Neither is poo-ker," shot in Rygel from the rear of the group. "Its primitive at best. It's not even a game of skill."  
"Maybe that's why you always lose, Spanky," threw in John. "Enough of the chat... the bay doors are opening."  
The huge pressure doors slide slowly open revealing the shuttle and a figure in a long coat. The companion's weapons swept upward to cover the visitor. Undeterred, the being stepped forward into the landing bay.  
"Greetings, crew of Moya," said a feminine voice. "I am Nireese, First Shrike in the Mek-Klor-TaZ Clan. Master Shenna sends his regards."  
In the full light of the landing bay the crew could see the visitor was a Nebari hybrid. She had brown eyes instead of jet black and her snow white her was longer than Chiana's and shot through with darker streaks of black. Her skin was a darker tone that most Nebari's pale gray and instead of a Shrike cloak, she wore a dark blue overcoat. She was also young - only a few cycles older that Chiana at most.  
John stood looking shocked at the young woman and began to lower his pulse pistol. "You're gonna help us get Berret back from Scarren space?" he asked dumfounded. "Excuse me for being blunt, but you're just a kid!"  
"We expected someone... older," added Aeryn.  
"And a little more battle hardened if we expect to go up against Scarrens," D'argo said.  
Nireese looked from one crewmate to the next. "I am the youngest agent in Clan history to achieve the rank of 'First Shrike', but I can assure you that Master Shenna has the utmost confidence in my abilities. I can help with what is to come." The half-Nebari turned and seeing Rygel, bowed respectfully. "Greetings to you, Dominar," she said as she rose from her bow.  
Rygel puffed out his chest. "Greetings and honor to your Clan, First Shrike Nireese," he answered.  
"The honor is to serve," Nireese said almost ritually.  
John turned to Aeryn. "Why do I get the feeling Rygel has run into these guys before?"  
"I have the same feeling," Aeryn replied suspiciously.  
Rygel threw them both a dirty look, saying, "At least someone finally has the manners to respect my position." The Hynerian went on ignoring them both and made introductions, though Crichton had the feeling that Nireese already knew who each of them were.  
  
Andar leaned in close to Malika to whisper in her ear.  
"Well, she certainly looks dangerous," he said in jest.  
The young Delvian gave him an even dirtier look than Rygel had given John and Aeryn.  
"Don't let her appearance fool you. She's still a Shrike and we can't trust her for a microt."  
The young Delvian had a slight look of doubt crossing her features but she stubbornly held her ground on her opinion of Shrikes. Andar tried to lighten her mood.  
"Come on, Malika. She's just a teenager... what possible harm can she do to us?" he said.  
The ex-teacher caught the half-Nebari girl looking at them and realized that the girl had over heard part of the conversation. He coughed into his fist to cover his slight embarrassment and asked the visitor, "If you're one of Shenna's people... where's your armor and cloak? I thought that was standard uniform for Shrikes."  
Nireese gave him a bright smile. "I could have wore them if you liked. But I find all that metal distracting and I like my coat so much better than my cloak. I think it flatters my figure more... don't you think?" She suddenly let out a light-teasing laugh and brushed her hand nonchalantly down Andar's arm. "Really, we don't always wear the armor and cloak. That's more a myth propagated by the Syndicate for their assassins."  
The girl left her hand resting on Andar's arm longer than she needed to and smiled up at him flirtingly. Malika frowned and shuffled her feet, unconsciously shifting her weight forward to the balls of her feet.  
Nireese noticed the movement.  
"I'm sorry," she told the Delvian girl as she removed her hand. "Is he yours? I'm unsure about Delvian mating rituals."  
Malika gritted her teeth and forced herself to be civil. "No... he isn't," she answered tensely.  
"Oh, I see," Nireese said dismissively and giving Andar one last smile before turning away and heading toward Chiana.  
"Bitch," Malika muttered under her breathe at the other girl's back.  
Andar grinned in amusement but quickly wiped it off his face when he saw Malika glare at him - daring him to make just one comment. Wisely, he chose to remain silent this time.  
  
Nireese's smile turned gentle as she approached the full-Nebari girl.  
"You are Chiana, Berret's companion?" she said. Chiana nodded her head once and Nireese took both her hands in hers. "Master Shenna sends you special greetings... and he bids me to ask," Nireese's voice dropped several octaves lower to mimic the Delvian Grandmaster's ancient voice, "has the little Nebari thief taught her Shrike how to steal yet?" Despite her blue mood, Chiana found herself smiling.  
"I've tried," she answered, "but he's not the best student in the Territories for snurching."  
Nireese laughed with her. "No, I imagine he's not," she said.  
Chiana's smile toned down a little as she observed, "You're half Nebari." Nireese nodded.  
"And half Sebacean, though the Nebari half usually wins out," she added with a wink.  
"You're not at all what I expected you to be," Chiana said in slight wonder.  
"We never are," Nireese answered.  
  
Chiana stood with Nireese in front of the main view screen while the others congregated at the rear of the Command tier to discuss matters privately. Crichton had suggested that Chiana stay with the half-Nebari Shrike to keep an eye on her. Chiana knew it was more for the reason to keep her out of the conversation. She had a reputation for taking the side of any Nebari she met that didn't conform to Nebari society's rules.  
Even though Nireese was only half Nebari and would never have been allowed to live on Nebari Prime in the first place, Chiana liked the girl immediately. Besides, she'd grown wary of all the talking the others insisted on doing and preferred to be standing away from it with Nireese anyway.  
Chiana attempted to get the other woman to tell her how the clan planned to help find Berret but the female Shrike refused to reveal anything further on the subject until the rest of the crew reached a decision on whether they were going to allow her and the Clan to be of assistance. The Nebari woman decided she would just have to wait until her crewmates stopped bickering in the corner.  
"Then tell me this," said Chiana in an amused low voice. "Why did you tweak up on Malika in the landing bay?"  
Nireese let a small smile grace her lips.  
"The younger Delvian, Malika," Nireese explained, "has a strong fear of what she perceives as Shrikes. Unfortunately, She has true Shrikes mixed in with the Enforcer assassins that the Black Syndicate has labeled Shrikes. She has probably met countless true Shrikes in her travels but never realized who they were."  
"Shenna said that sometimes you do perform assassinations," Chiana threw in.  
Nireese shrugged her shoulders. "Yes, if we have to and its necessary for the greater good."  
Chiana nodded in agreement... that was basically what Shenna had told her all that time ago.  
"Its not a perfect universe," Nireese continued. "Anyway... I 'tweaked' Malika's nose to give her something else to think about besides me being a Shrike. If she thinks I'm interested in Andar she'll become 'annoyed' with me as a rival and momentarily forget my calling."  
Chiana admitted it was a good idea... to a point.  
"Just don't get too carried away pretending to be interested in Andar," she warned. "Malika is still a Delvian and she can rip you limb from limb if you gris her off enough. She's not the most congenial person I've ever meant. Besides, Andar's head is already too big for his own good."  
"She'll have to catch me first... and Andar IS a handsome man after all," Nireese answered with a sly grin of her dark lips.  
Chiana found herself chuckling.  
"Your Nebari half is starting to show again," Chiana replied with her own grin.  
  
Berret was pretending to sketch the ancient water fountain in the block square when in actuality he paying more attention to detailing the mansion-like rooming house in the background than the stone statues spouting water into the marble pool beneath them. His microbe given talent for drawing was paying off as he carefully detailed the layout of the building for later use.  
He noted the large Leopardian casually leaning in the main doorway. The feline being checked those attempting to enter the structure, letting them pass if they were on Syndicate business or employed by the rooming house. Twice he noticed cloaked figures enter the building unmolested by the guard. Berret relaxed as he began to believe his ruse might work... if only this was the place where Arckatius was being quartered. After several arns he'd seen no sign of the Scarren, or any Scarren for that matter.  
He was beginning to wonder how much longer he could sit in the square pretending to draw before he started to attract unwanted attention when the pedestrians around him began to murmur and then the groups of people seem to part and scurry off to the sides of the square.  
Berret turned to look and saw what had caused the sudden commotion. Several huge Scarrens were warning bystanders to clear a path... shoving those to slow to obey aside. They marched passed Berret's position without so much as a side glance and the ex-assassin's heart seemed to suddenly stop beating.  
Following the point men was another mixed group of Scarrens and other beings... in their center protected like a king, was Arckatius.  
Berret's mind filled with sudden hot hatred. His fist clenched involuntarily at the sight of the Scarren kingpin, snapping the pencil in two before he could gain control of himself. He half expected to feel the slight recoil of his gauntlet blades deploying, but as he wasn't wearing his gauntlets or armor that didn't happen. Before he realized it, Arckatius was passed him and the rear guard of several more large-framed Scarrens obstructed his view of his hated enemy.  
The party made their way to the rooming house and passed by the Leopardian without stopping. Berret purposely paused for several microns, forcing his temper to cool before gathering up his belongings and leaving the area. Someone leaving sudden in a fit of anger might be noticed. Berret wanted nothing out of the ordinary brought to the attention of Arckatius or his people.  
"I have you now, you bastard," Berret thought grimly to himself as he packed up his sketchpad and supplies. 


	7. Chapter 6

Chiana and Nireese where having a mid-day meal break in Moya's Center Chamber when John and Aeryn strode in. Both Nebari women halted their repast in mid-bite as the couple appeared.  
"Okay," said John, "We've agreed to hear out your plan and if it's feasible... we'll let you help."  
Nireese looked at Chiana with a slight hint of satisfaction in her strange brown eyes, as if she knew the crew could reach no other conclusion but to hear her out.  
"You should also know," put in Aeryn, "That if this is a trick or you betray us in anyway... you will not live to regret it."  
The half-Nebari woman shrugged one shoulder in vague acceptance. "Of course. Neither Master Shenna nor myself would betray Berret or any of his crewmates. You have my word, we seek merely to help in recovering Berret."  
John held her eyes for a moment and then nodded. "All right, but before we hear your plan, we want some straight answers first."  
"As you wish," replied Nireese. "But shouldn't we wait for the rest of your group to join us?"  
"We have been elected to represent Moya's crew in this... discussion," said Aeryn with a meaningful side-look at John. "We thought the fewer people asking questions at this time, the less confusion there would be."  
"A wise decision," agreed the half-Nebari female.  
"This has to be a first," muttered Chiana sarcastically.  
Crichton got an annoyed look at the comment. "Pip, you wanna stay for this meeting... or do you wanna go?"  
Chiana held up her hand in surrender to show that she would behave herself. She took another bite out of whatever the raw vegetable was she had been eating and settled back to listen in.  
"Okay, first question," continued the human, "Why exactly did Berret go?"  
"It is as Chiana guessed. He's gone to kill Arckatius," supplied Nireese.  
"How do you know this?" asked Aeryn with narrowing suspicious eyes.  
Nireese eased back in her seat and pushed her half finished plate out of her way. "Master Shenna has been watching Berret for a long time. He deducted that sooner or later that he would try to avenge himself on the Scarren and the Syndicate. It is in his nature."  
"How has Shenna been keeping tabs on Berret?" John fired in next. Nireese looked momentarily lost.  
"Tabs?" she asked with a puzzled look, "I don't understand the context of this word?"  
"Tabs, meaning, how is he keeping track of Berret?" John explained.  
"I don't know," answered Nireese.  
"You don't know!" Aeryn said disbelievingly. "Or you won't tell us?"  
Nireese sighed. "Master Shenna did not reveal his sources of information to me. And if he had, I doubt very much I would be allowed to reveal them to anyone else. You can be assured though, the Master's information is accurate."   
Aeryn looked angry and Crichton appeared as if he were about to lose his temper also. Chiana broke in before either could explode.  
"Do you know where he has gone?" she asked.  
"Yes, Berret has gone to the planet Sa'van-nah on the fringes of the Scarren Imperium."  
"Why?" demanded John.  
"Because that is where Arckatius will be," Nireese answered as if it should have been obvious.  
Crichton rolled his eyes in exasperation. "We've already figured that bit out! The question is... why are Berret and this Arckatius heading for Savannah?"  
"Apologies," said Nireese. "It is pronounced 'Sa'van-nah. In Scarren it means 'worthless place'."  
"Yeah, whatever. Get to the point," John insisted.  
"Sa'van-nah is a world that none of the Syndicate Houses have laid claim to as part of their territory. It has no useful resources other then a market place and a few refreshment and rooming houses. It is mainly a place to transfer from ship to ship or wait to catch your next means of transport. It is also the perfect place to hold a summit meeting seeing none of the Houses have bothered to establish a foothold there. Neutral ground so to speak."  
Nireese stopped to sip at a glass of water while John tapped a finger along one cheek as he thought.  
"So for some reason, the Syndicate has called a parley at this place?" he asked.  
Nireese looked confused again. "Parley?" she asked of no one in particular.  
"It means a meeting between rivals or enemies to discuss something," Aeryn clarified.  
"Why didn't he just say that?" Nireese asked.  
"That's just Crichton. You'll get use to him," Chiana added. "So what are they meeting about?"  
"There has been too much in-fighting among the Houses in the last few cycles, especially among the lower caste. The higher Houses decided that too much time, effort, and resources were being expended in petty conflicts. So they decided to call a summit to work out the differences and improve profits. We learned this some time ago that attempts were being made to call the Houses together to settle disputes. Berret learned the same information and apparently has decided to use the opportunity to assassinate Arckatius."  
"And how did your Clan come by this information? And do not tell us you don't know," ordered the Sebacean woman.  
"We have many field agents whose sole purpose is collecting data. We monitor the Syndicate and all its Houses, both High and Minor, very closely... especially seeing they call their Enforcers - 'Shrikes'. You can imagine that would be of interest to us," replied the half-Nebari girl.  
John rubbed at his jaw in contemplation.  
"I can imagine that some of these agents you talked about are responsible for the trouble between the Scarren crime Houses too," he drawled.  
Nireese gave him a mischievous Chiana-like smile. "You may be very well correct," she said.  
Crichton shook his head. "Okay, I guess that falls outside our conversation and into the category of 'your business'. I'll give you that much," he gave in. "Now for the $500,000 question. What's this big plan of yours to get 'Ret back?"  
"And how do we stop him before he kills Arckatius?" added Chiana.  
"We don't," said Nireese simply.  
"That's your big plan?" asked John incredibly.   
Aeryn tossed an eating utensil she was toying with back onto the table. "We're back to frelling square one!" she announced.  
Nireese looked from one to another. "Oh, you're never going to stop him from trying to kill Arckatius," she said. "If he fails this time and lives, he'll only try again later. There is nothing anyone can tell him that will change his mind about that. For good or ill, Berret will never have peace as long as that Scarren lives."  
"So what are you suggesting we do?" Chiana inquired.  
"Help and make sure Berret succeeds,"   
"Excuse me!" John broke in, "We're trying to avoid getting dragged into this so the Syndicate doesn't put a price on our heads to go with the ones the Peacekeepers already have there."  
"I wasn't suggesting you go in and announce that you're helping Berret," Nireese said in exasperation. I meant we help discreetly by arranging it to make it look like Berret's deed was done by someone else."  
"What do you mean? Who?" asked Aeryn.  
"I don't get it either," Chiana added with a shake of her head.  
Nireese gave them a wicked smile. "Think of all the mistrust that will be present at the summit, all those feuding Houses in one place. I'm suggesting that we let Berret carry through with his plans... and that we simply arrange it so the evidence points to another Syndicate House... preferably another High House if possible."  
John and Aeryn looked a one another and then at Chiana.  
"You know, this could work," Aeryn muttered out loud.  
"We let J.B. do his thing and plant evidence fingering another crime family. I can see that working. If the bad guys are that much on edge with each other, I don't imagine they will stop to look to closely at what ever evidence they find to see if its real or not," John agreed.  
"Just think of all the splendid chaos that will ensue," added Nireese jovially. "It'll be tens of cycles before they can even try and get matters under control again.  
Chiana gave the group at the table her first genuine smile in over a solar day.  
"Sounds like fun," she said.  
  
"Are YOU frelling MAD?" snapped Malika as she shot from her seat.  
Besides her, Andar looked uneasy with not knowing what he should do. John, Aeryn, and Chiana had just gone over Nireese's plan with the rest of the crew. He expected the young Delvian girl's reaction as soon as he realized what they were getting at. The others didn't know about Malika's recent dreams... more like vivid nightmares, that she was having the last few weekens. In her visions, she was facing that Shrike that had almost killed her and her mother in the past. Only this time, Malika witnessed the Enforcer tear her mother apart before her very eyes instead of her employer. As she told the ex-teacher of her nightmare, the girl unconsciously wiped her hands together and against her sides... as if she were washing her mother's blood from them. Andar could almost see the stress drain from her face as she described the way the assassin then turned on her after her mother was dead, almost as if in her dream the daughter welcomed death after witnessing her parent's horrible demise.   
"You want us to head into Scarren space? To a Syndicate summit meeting...!" Malika's eyes look half-wild as she regarded one after the other of her shipmates. "You're ALL farbed!" she spat. "We need to be going the other way, not toward them!"  
"I for once agree with you," threw in Rygel. "This wasn't what I was expecting as far as help from the Clan."  
"It is a little risky, Dominar," said Nireese, "But I believe we can handle it. As you know, Clan resources are spread thin at the moment with... other concerns."  
The First Shrike's words seemed to remind the Hynerian of something.  
"Ah-hum... well, yes. I guess you are correct, First Shrike," Rygel said. "I'm sure you, and the others, can see to what needs to be done to recover Chiana's worthless pet. Meanwhile, if anyone needs me to make an important decision... I will be in my quarters inspecting my possessions."  
Rygel steered his Hoverthrone out of the chamber before anyone else could ask him any further questions.  
Crichton shook his head at the odd happening. "Why do I get the feeling there's something more here then meets the eye," he muttered low enough so only Aeryn could hear.  
"I don't know," Aeryn said a little louder, "But when I have the time... I will find out what it is. Even if I have to skin Rygel alive to do it."  
Malika rapped on the table to get their attention back.  
"Hello? Am I the only one here that has a problem with going into Scarren space?" she asked sarcastically.  
"So it would seem," rumbled D'argo from one corner of the room. His tone and manner plainly indicating that he thought the Delvian youth was being childish. Malika turned her green eyes on the Luxan and locked him in her stare.  
"Frell you, D'argo!" she shot back. "We'll see how smart you are when some Shrike's brace blades separate your Tancus from your nose... just before its uses them to take the rest of your head off!"  
She looked back at the rest of the group. "If you insist on doing this, I'm getting in my Prowler and leaving." The girl turned to Andar. "Are you coming with me then?" she asked.  
Before the Sebacean man could answer, Zhaan cut it.  
"Malika..." the older Delvian called to get her attention. "You cannot leave the group now even if you wanted. There are no inhabitable systems within Prowler range. You and Andar would die in deep space."  
"We could hook up with an out-going convoy from that jump-off world that you're going too. There are plenty of space merchants that would gladly transport us in return for having a gunship to run convoy defense," Malika answered stubbornly. "Moya would just have to drop us just outside the system and we'll hitch a berth with one of the next traders to leave Sa'van-nah."   
"Please, Malika..." Zhaan started to say.  
"Malika, I don't think I want to leave Moya and the others in this mess," Andar suddenly put in.  
The younger Delvian ignored her mentor at the man's unpredicted statement.  
"What?" she asked in disbelief. Her mouth opened and worked silently for a few microts before sound continued to come out. "...You - you can't be serious! You wanna stay and die with them? Are you insane too?"  
"Malika, listen..." Andar tried.  
"No!" she blurted out over him. "No... you listen. Haven't you been listening to anything I've been telling you?"  
"I have, Malika. I've listened to every word," he told her. "You know I take everything you tell me to heart. But running isn't the answer here. Now more then ever, we have to all stick together."  
Malika stared at the Sebacean as if he'd just betrayed her.  
"He's right, you know," said John quietly from the side. She hadn't realized that the human had moved from his place besides Aeryn and was standing almost right next to her. Malika turned to find herself staring into Crichton's blue eyes. "We are all each other has now," the human told her. His hands lightly rested on her shoulders. They began to move up and down her arms, as if he could rub her fears away.  
"There is no one else we can count on but one another, and it's when we stand together that we are strongest."  
At the table, Chiana murmured, "I wish someone had told Berret that before he decided to leave."  
Nireese reached over and grasped one of her hands in support and squeezed it gently. John and the others plainly heard her comment.  
"That's right, Pip," the astronaut continued, "Someone should have sat down with J.B. and explained this to him. You mess with one, you mess with all... right, heavy Dee?" he asked with a glance at the Luxan.  
"Right, John... my blade and my honor belong to you all," D'argo swore.  
"I will always stand with you and the others, John," Aeryn joined in without having to be asked.  
"...And me," added Chiana.  
Nireese nodded to them. "I pledge my and my Clan's allegiance," she said. Chiana smiled her thanks to the half-Nebari, noticing that she was also doing her best to help assure the Delvian girl.  
"Moya and I can always be counted on," Pilot said from the clamshell holo comm.  
"All right!" exclaimed John trying to lighten the mood a bit. "We got ourselves a regular 'United Nations' theme going on here." He smiled brightly at Malika; the Delvian gazed at him in wonder. "Hey, D'argo..." he called, "... who's the daddy?"  
The usually serious warrior gave a great belly laugh as he recalled the old joke. It was good and proper for a warrior to laugh with his comrades into the face of danger before going into battle... it set the mood.  
"I'm the daddy!" he rumbled back at the human, in good spirits.  
John's eyes never left Malika's. "That's right, big guy. You're the daddy," he repeated. "And who's your big brother?" the human asked Malika in a solemn tone.  
"You?" Malika supplied a few microts later.  
"That's right," John said with a small nod of his head. "I'm the big brother... and I'm going to be right there with you come hell or high water... and so will Aeryn."  
Andar's hand slipped into hers a microt later.  
"And I will be right here beside you," he promised.  
A new hand settled on her shoulder from behind. "Turn around, and I will be right behind you," said Sean Crichton's voice.  
Zhaan stepped up beside John "You see?" she asked gently, "You are much stronger then you thought you were."  
Malika looked at the others all gathering around her. Somehow, she was feeling stronger. Her real family had just been her parents and her... and then Rahlin when he came along and they married. With them all gone, she had gotten use to relaying only on her self. Now this new feeling flowed through her, almost the same thing as when her parents were alive, but different. Still, it was an unmistakable feeling of strength and support. She hadn't realized how much she had missed it so.  
"We can't do this without you, kiddo," John told her quietly; making it clear that without her the group wasn't whole. Malika slowly nodded to him and looked back into his eyes. Suddenly she found herself saying two words she never thought she be saying to another living being.  
"I'm scared." The words were barely audible.  
John's eyes softened. "We all are," he told her.   
Somehow, his admission made the girl feel as if everything might be all right - she wasn't totally alone any longer. It seemed natural when she found herself sinking against his chest in a brotherly supportive hug. She finally realized why Chiana sought comfort there occasionally in John's arms... the human had a way of making you feel safe when things seem their darkest.  
"We're all scared, kid," Crichton assured her over and over while stroking her hair to relax her. "There's nothing to be ashamed of there."  
  
Alppa said good evening to the night shift cook and left the Inn by the side employee entrance. He was glad to be finally ending his day of work at the rooming house as a floor manager. The smell of Scarren food was overpowering and upsetting his delicate stomachs. Also, having all those rough looking individuals about the place set his nerves on edge - especially the cloaked ones. He had been warned by the Inn owner to avoid those and to not ask any questions about what he saw. It was also suggested that he forgot anything he might see as soon as he saw it... if he wanted to remain employed, and healthy. The big feline type being at the front door absolutely set his teeth on edge... the cat-like person smiled at him menacingly with it's fanged incisors each time he saw Alppa. It made his whiskers tingle and his ringed tail twitch in discomfort. That was the main reason he chose to leave by the back exit.   
He had just cleared the slim alleyway leading to the rear door and was strolling passed the single loading dock for the Inn, his mind on the hunk of imported MussMuss cheese that he had back at his apartment, when he unexpectedly ran into the person.  
The being seemed to dissolve out of the shadows before him. Alppa let out a squeak as he was started.  
"What do you want," he said in his high-pitched voice. He saw now that it was a humanoid Sebacean type being - not the feline one from inside. The man smiled a smile that didn't touch his blue eyes.  
"You are one of the floor mangers for this Inn?" the male asked in an eerie tone of voice.  
Alppa then saw that the man's eyes held a strange sort of silver tint in them. He had a sudden feeling that this creature could see better in the dark of the loading dock then he could. Whatever he was... he wasn't a Sebacean.  
"Y-Yes," Alppa answered while looking for a way to escape. "Why do you want to know?"  
Again the nerve-racking soulless smile.  
"Are you working tomorrow?" the silver-eyed man asked.  
"No... who are you and what do you want with me? Why all the questions?" Alppa wanted to know.  
"You just saved your life," replied the man, "I have some questions I need the answer to about your place of employment."  
Now Alppa was really becoming afraid. His species wasn't known for their bravery.   
"What do you mean saved my life?"  
The man only grinned once again.  
"You want to know something about THEM! Don't you!" he suddenly figured out. "Look! I don't know anything.... I-I can't tell you nothing!"  
The man took a step toward him. His dark overcoat making him look more sinister by the microt. He bent down a bit until his strange eyes were level with Alppa's own.  
"Oh... I believe you can,"  
His words froze Alppa's blood as the being's hand casually rested on his small shoulder. There was a tiny audible click and the sting of a needle in that area. Alppa felt his legs suddenly go numb and he started to fall. The last thing he remembered before it went totally dark was the unchanging smile on the man's face. 


	8. Chapter 7

John loitered at a corridor junction outside the tier five quarters section of Moya.  
He'd been waiting for their new guest to exit her temporary quarters so he could have a private chat with her away from the others. He'd been there about a third of an arn when the half-Nebari finally left her room and headed along the corridor in the opposite direction from him. He started after her.  
"Hold up a microt, Mata Hari," Crichton called to Nireese.  
"Hello, John Crichton," Nireese answered even before she turned around. It didn't escape John's notice that the girl knew he was there before he called to her.  
"I want to talk to you," the human continued.  
"I am at your service," Nireese replied pleasantly.  
As John walked over to her, he noted that the girl was dressed in typical Nebari fashion. Nireese was wearing knee-high soft leather-like boots that hugged her calf muscles, even tighter pants with a wide leather belt slung low on her hips with several small pouches attached to it. She had a dark brown half-top that left her arms and stomach bare. Around her biceps were leather armbands and on each wrist she wore a heavy looking metal bracelet. It dawned on Crichton that Nireese was an attractive female - and that the girl also knew it.  
He must have taken too long with his casual exam of the half-Nebari and she noticed his appraisal.   
"How can I help you," she asked with a knowing sly smirk. John frowned in response.  
"You can cut the sex kitten act for one," the human told her. "It doesn't work for Pip - and I like Pip.  
You on the other hand..." he left the comment hang unfinished, hoping it made him sound unimpressed by her appearance... or her slight flirting.  
Nireese's head tilted in that graceful Nebari way that Chiana had. Her smile grew even larger as she moved closer to Crichton; the girl seemed to glide across the deck instead of walk. This close to her, John couldn't help but take another look at her, his eyes being drawn back to her bare mid-section. Chiana had a toned body, but Nireese had a six-pack that Aeryn would have killed for. Instinctively Crichton knew that the rest of Nireese's body would be just as well muscled... and as well trained as the deadliest Peacekeeper commando.  
"Why, John Crichton," Nireese said smoothly. "I think I might be tempted to dally with you... but I don't think Officer Sun would approve."  
"That's not what I was getting at!" John started.  
Nireese's eyebrows shot up in a look of surprise. "You mean, you would rather have a torrid secret affair? Clandestine meetings in the Amnexus Chamber? Passionate rendezvous in the maintenance bays?" She ran a finger lightly up his chest. "You didn't strike me as the type to cheat on a lover."  
Crichton pushed her hand away and took a step back from her. Distance seemed to be a good idea.   
The girl slightly curled one corner of her lip up at his action.  
"That's not what I meant!" he exclaimed.  
To the astronaut's surprise, the half-Nebari girl started to giggle.  
"Relax, John Crichton... I was teasing," Nireese confessed. "You are really not my type. But you did deserve it for what you were thinking."  
"Oh? How do YOU know... what I was thinking," he asked defensively.  
Nireese rewarded him with a lopsided smirk and an eyebrow arched in question.  
"Yeah, I'm a guy... and you're a Nebari chick," John finally gave in. "You may have a point."  
The girl smiled and shrugged to indicate she accepted his reasoning. "So what is it you wished to speak to me about?" she again asked him.  
Crichton straightened up as he remembered what he'd wanted from the female Shrike.  
"We've agreed to go along with this Keystone Cops bit of a plan you and your Grand Poobah have come up with..."  
Nireese looked confused as she interrupted him.  
"I do not understand again, forgive me," she said, "Kees-Tone Kopps? Grand Poo-baah?"  
John waved his hand. "Never mind! The plan you and Shenna have thought up."  
Nireese frowned and her brow creased in slight annoyance.  
"Why didn't you say that in the beginning? You are a very strange creature, John Crichton. Are you sure that you and Berret are from the same species?" the girl replied and asked. "And Master Shenna is grandmaster of my Clan, not this Grand Poo-baah."  
"Okay, okay!" said Crichton. "I'll try and keep this simple. We've all agreed to the plan... your plan."  
"Yes?" confirmed Nireese.  
"That's good so far," John continued, "What I want to know is... what's in it for you guys?"  
"I do not understand again."  
"I think you do," the human countered with a solemn face. "Your Clan gets something out of helping us get Berret back. I wanna know what it is."  
The look in Nireese's eyes turned shrewd as she regarded Crichton. The human was more astute then the reports had led the Clan to believe.  
"There is nothing for you to be concerned about," she replied. "The plan and reasons are just as I laid them out to you."   
John shook his head. "Uh-ah... I'm not buying that bridge. Try again," he said.  
"There is NOTHING more," the girl persisted and attempted to walk passed him as if the conversation were over.  
"LOOK!" John snapped and grabbed Nireese by one arm. He pushed her back up against the corridor wall to keep her from leaving. It occurred to him somewhere in the back of his mind that this girl could probably kill him with a single blow - or at least walk away from him if she really decided she had a mind too, and leave him an aching mess in her wake. Thankfully, the young woman didn't choose either course of action. "I DON'T care that your Clan's gets something out of this deal... but these people are my friends. They're the only family I have left, and I want to know exactly what you're getting us into."  
Nireese remained silent and her brown eyes searched his own. Crichton could tell he was being measured in some way by the half-Nebari Shrike.  
"I just want us to be ready... you can understand that, can't you?" he asked. "We need to know everything and not go in half-blind to the game plan. I need to know what you're holding out."  
The First Shrike's lips tightened and she give him a small nodded of her head as she agreed with what he was saying.   
"We'd eventually go in after 'Ret without your help. But I have a feeling we're gonna be better off with it," he finished. Surprisingly, Nireese reached up and padded his cheek in a sincere manner.  
"You're a good friend, John Crichton," she told him without a hint of sarcasm or tease. "Berret is very lucky to have fallen in with you and the others."  
John nodded. "So you'll tell me the rest?" he inquired.  
Nireese heaved a heavy sigh before replying, "There's not much more to tell that would matter to you."  
"We need to know it all. The smallest detail could make the difference."  
"Very well," relented the half-Nebari woman, "As you surmised, the Clan has another reason for sending me beside getting our Shrike back."  
Crichton made a mental note of her calling Berret, "our Shrike", but decided to wait until later to delve into that slip of the tongue. "Go on," he encouraged.  
"You've already guessed that we have been instrumental in the past with keeping the Syndicate Houses at each other's throats and not aligning together into one organized fraction. In the last few cycles that situation has changed. Other more important matters have arisen and most of our agents are fulfilling other obligations... other unavoidable and very necessary obligations. This summit could have not been called at a worse time."  
"I've gathered that," Crichton said. The girl nodded.  
"We've recently learned that one of the High Houses is seeking an 'unofficial alliance' with the Scarren Imperium. Such an alliance would give the Scarren military countless intelligence agents and resources throughout the Charted and Uncharted Territories. A vast intelligence network the likes of which no living being has ever seen. There would be no way of tracking down and uncovering all their operatives... ever. Such an advantage would lead the Scarrens into open warfare with the rest of the quadrant. The Peacekeepers, the Nebari, the Luxans, Sheyangs, Tavleks, the Zenetans... they would all be destroyed from within. None of the races would stand a chance."  
"The Syndicate is that well entrenched in the Territories?" John asked.  
Nireese nodded again. "More then you could ever know," she told the man. "The entire Territories will fall under Scarren rule within two cycles with the Syndicate taking a large portion of the spoils if this alliance is allowed to take place. The Uncharted Territories will succumb in even less time and they will move out to conquer other sectors of space from there. They will move from system to system, destroying worlds and enslaving races until..." she left off.  
"Until they eventually reach Earth," John finished.  
"And then move beyond even your world," Nireese concluded.   
Crichton looked worried. "How long until they reach my homeworld?"  
"We project about fifty cycles," Nireese answered.   
  
John rubbed at his chin with his thumb as he thought.  
"So there is a lot more at stake for you guys then just getting Berret back," the human commented out loud. "Do you know which Syndicate leader is making this deal with the Imperium?"  
"Yes... Arckatius," Nireese supplied.  
"Damn it!" John cursed, "I knew you people had an ulterior motive for helping us. No wonder you want Berret to kill this bastard. It solves one of your problems for you right off the bat."  
"Yes and no," admitted the First Shrike. "Berret's decision to go works in our favor but it wasn't planned."  
"So you're saying none of your people arranged for us to run into that pickpocket that gave Berret that information... you people had nothing at all to do with that?"  
Nireese shook her head. "No... that was only coincidence."  
"I don't know if I can believe you or not," Crichton said with a hard stare. "I find it even harder to believe now that you care about helping get Berret back."  
"Believe me, if Master Shenna had been able... he would have stopped Berret from going. The Master believed that it was too soon for him to face Arckatius and the Syndicate. It was hoped that all of you could have kept him safe until the proper time," Nireese explained.  
"How the hell were we suppose to keep him safe?" asked Crichton in bewilderment. "The guys' a walking encyclopedia of mayhem and bad timing... and those are his good points! And what the hell does Shenna want with him anyway?"  
"I do not fully understand myself," the female Shrike replied. "The Master only tells me that Berret is very important to the Clan's future. He was hoping that Berret would remain hidden and out of the way with your group until he was ready."  
"Ready for what?"  
"I don't know that either," Nireese answered with a grim shake of her head.  
"Bull-dren! I think Berret's exactly where you want him... doing exactly what you want him to be doing. You're using him and us to do your dirty work!"  
Nireese shook her head in denial, not at all effected by Crichton's accusation.   
"You're wrong. Getting Berret and the rest of you as far away from this situation is just as an important a goal as preventing the alliance," the girl announced.  
"You're gonna have to go a long way to prove a claim like that, lady," John shot back.  
Nireese regarded him with hard somber eyes.  
"I have gone a long way to ensure that, John Crichton," she said.  
"And how's that?"   
Without a word she removed one of the metal bracelets and showed him a scar on the inside forearm just before her wrist. It was about three henta long and looked fairly recent.  
"Dramtanite charges implanted in my forearms just behind the wrist. The positive charge in my left arm, the negative in my right," she explained and then replaced the bracelet.  
"Yeah, so?" Crichton asked, unfamiliar with the material.  
"If I were to remove both bracelets and touch my wrists together... the resulting explosion would destroy half of Moya."  
"Wait a micron! You're a walking bomb...?" he asked incredibly.  
The girl nodded an affirmative. "As long as one or both bracelets are on, the Dramtanite's opposite molecular fields cannot combine and react."  
Crichton stared at her in amazement.  
"So that's it... you're gonna go in there and blow everyone to kingdom-come?"  
"Kingdom come?" she asked, and then shook her head to forget the thought. "If I understand you right... that is incorrect. The plan is as I told you. We attempt to help Berret assassinate Arckatius and get you all away before the Syndicate is any wiser to what really happened. If all goes well, I will return home and have the explosives removed. If you are all killed in the attempt and Arckatius lives - I will attempt to kill him by whatever means necessary... up to and including detonating the explosives in the middle of the summit meeting if I must."  
"What happens if it all goes to hell in a hand-basket... but we still have a chance to get away?" John asked next.  
"Then I will lay down my life to help you if I must, to help your group and Berret get away... this I have sworn to my Master and on the honor of my Clan lineage.  
"Even if we've already served our purpose and Arckatius and the alliance are stopped beforehand?"  
"Even then. I would die to assure your escape if need be," Nireese promised with cold determined eyes.  
John found himself believing her. "All right," he said. "Just one more question though."  
"What is that?" asked the half-Nebari girl.  
"Loyalty to your people is all well and good, but why would you do something like that?" Crichton inquired. "Why sacrifice your life to stop the Scarrens and the Syndicate."  
"I made a vow and they have to be stopped," Nireese supplied once more.  
"Yeah... I can see that," John said. He looked off to one side away from the girl as he formed his next statement - something was pricking at his instincts about the female Shrike. "What happen to you that makes you willing to die to do it?"  
Nireese visibly faltered and looked away herself for an instant. Crichton knew then he'd guessed right.  
"The Scarrens..." she started before pausing a moment and swallowing. "The Scarrens killed my younger brother several cycles ago."  
"I see," said John, "Was he a member of your Clan?"  
Nireese shook her head. "No... no, he wasn't a Shrike." She licked her lip, looking uncomfortable talking about the subject. "He was only fourteen cycles old, living on the colony world where we grew up before the Clan found and recruited me. I left him there with a cousin while I was in training. A Scarren Dreadnaught arrived one day... and sterilized the colony planet... killing everyone."  
"Christ!" the human muttered. "I'm sorry... why?" he asked, feeling helpless and needlessly cruel suddenly for inadvertently making the girl relive her loss.   
"No real reason," the Shrike replied, "They just wanted to annex the world and that was the easiest way to remove the inhabitants."  
"Okay," John told her. "...You told me everything I wanted to know, no more questions. I'm sorry."  
Nireese looked more subdued then the human would have thought possible of somebody who was half Nebari.  
"Do you trust me now?" she asked a few microts later.  
"More then I did an arn ago," was Crichton's only response.  
  
Andar strolled alongside the silent Malika as they head toward the labs on the lower tiers. The Leviathan had set course to coordinates just outside Scarren space and now that they were on their way, the crew seemed even jumpier than they thought they would be.  
"How you doing? All right?" the Sebacean asked when he thought the girl had been silent too long.  
Malika absently nodded to him.  
"That's good," said Andar idly. "I thought you might have forgotten how to talk for a micron."  
"How can you be so calm?" the Delvian asked a moment later.  
"I'm not," the man replied with a single shrug of his shoulders. "My hands are sweating torrents."  
They walked to the next corridor crossing without speaking; Andar stole a glance at the young Delvian from the corner of one eye. "You'll be okay," he assured.   
"I don't feel like it's going to be okay," she replied.  
The Sebacean man drew in a deep breath. "Well, it will," he continued. "You weren't so jittery when it was going to be just us and Sean going after Berret."  
"That's because I really didn't think we were going to get away with it," Malika said. "And if we did manage to leave Moya, I was sure we wouldn't make it to Scarren space before the other caught up to us."  
"Oh, I don't know. Both you and Sean are good pilots, and we're all resourceful," answered Andar. "I'm sure we could have made it."  
Malika bit her lower lip at his comment. Andar caught the look right away, and something fell into place for him in that instant.  
"...Unless," he said with a hint of suspicion, "Somebody was planning on seeing too it that we didn't make all the way there."  
Malika speeded up her walking pace. Andar looked wounded.  
"Malika!" he said as he hurried to keep up with her. "You were going to sabotage us... weren't you?"  
She glanced up at him quickly, and then looked away... keeping her eyes on the deck in front of her as she moved.  
"You were!" he said incredibly. "I can't believe that you would do that..."  
"Let it go, Andar!" Malika said forcefully.  
"No! I trusted you," the man said. "I thought I could always count on you above everyone else aboard this ship."  
"It was for your own good," she snapped.  
"My own good?" he asked, "What about Sean? What about going to rescue Berret?"  
"What about them!" she turned and yelled, making the man suddenly skid to a halt or run into her. "Berret's gone! This is his fault. At least we're safe for the moment. Sean's safe, you're safe... nobody's out there in a Pod risking their life."  
"You didn't have that right to decide this for the two of us," Andar countered. "You should have stayed out of our plan if you were just going to hamper us."  
"I couldn't... you didn't know what you were doing!"  
Andar looked dumbfounded. "I may be new to space travel... but I think I'm intelligent enough to understand what I'm doing."  
The girl vigorously shook her head. "No - No, someone had to be there to keep you from making a mistake. Someone... had to do something to stop you for your own good!"  
"I'm not a child that needs watching over," Andar put in.  
"I had to do it to protect you," Malika insisted.  
"I'm a grown man. I can make my own reasonable decisions about what I will and will not do," he told her sternly.  
"You... You..." the Delvian girl sputtered out.   
Malika looked around wildly for a moment as if looking for a third party to plead her case too. She shook her hands in the air in frustration at the man. "You're... AN IDIOT! she suddenly cried.  
Andar's eyes shot open wide in surprise, he had anticipated a serious debate with the stubborn female but the proclamation was the last thing he expected to hear from the intelligent Delvian girl.   
Malika hadn't noticed his reaction as she carried on with her bombardment of confused words and feelings.  
"You're a big... dumb... sweet... wonderful... idiot..." she continued on, looking everywhere about them but straight at him. Her hands had stopped waving wildly around and where now twisting and worrying at his wrap-around Sebacean shirt almost of their own violation. "... so good and kind... but such a nurfer sometimes..."  
"Malika..." he tried to break into her ramble.  
"I dunno anymore.... I can't... go through this..." she continued on without hearing him.  
"Malika..."  
"I just can't.... can't bare to lose another... not again..."  
"Malika!" Andar called one last time and then suddenly pushed her up against a bulkhead. Before she knew what was happening his lips were pressed tight against hers. Without thinking, she forced her own lips against his. Taken by surprise... she momentarily forgot about the thoughts and feelings that had been rambling around inside her head. She found reality catching up with her a few microts later.  
"Mmm...Andar?" she tried to get out, her voice sounding uncharacteristically tiny, "Andar? What are you doing?" She half-heartedly tried to pull away from him.  
The tall Sebacean man broke the embrace and rested his forehead against hers for the moment.  
"Something... I should have done a long time ago," he replied in a low voice.  
Malika looked up into his dark Sebacean eyes... and found her being drawn back in.  
"...Oh..." she murmured quietly. She tilted her head back and offered his lips again without further questions. Andar drew her in and renewed the kiss. Malika wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed closer to him. A nearby storage chamber presented an opportunity for the couple.  
Andar kicked the door closed behind them without letting go of the Delvian girl. 


	9. Chapter 8

Berret unlatched the small case he'd taken from one of his equipment bags and started removing the contents of the satchel onto the desk he was using as a workspace.  
A muffled sound behind him earned his attention and he glanced over his shoulder to the bound and gagged form lying on the floor besides the room's sole bed-platform. The rodent-like being had awaken and was watching him with fear filled eyes. The Shrike sighed at the interruption and rose from his seat. Going over to Alppa he touched the side of his neck once more and the creatures eyelids fluttered, as he was rendered unconscious once again.   
Returning to the desk, Berret removed the ring from the hand he'd used to put his captive to asleep. Laid out of the desk were seven more rings just like it. From the case, he took a small multi-tool, a mini-injector, and a vial of clear liquid. Starting with the ring he had been wearing, he pointed the tool at it and a sonic pulse caused the ring to split open... revealing a miniature storage chamber and a micro needle delivery system. Using the opposite end of the tool he flushed the current contents of the holding chamber out and then used the injector to refill it with some of the fluid from the vial.   
He repeated the process for the other seven rings. The eight rings were now full of concentrated Seth-viper venom. Unlike in its diluted form, the rings were now quite deadly.  
The last item he removed from the small case was a full size med-injector. Finding the vein inside his elbow joint, he injected himself with the antidote. Once he put the rings on, he was at risk of scratching himself accidentally should he find himself having to use them in combat. The antiserum would protect him from the poison for up to one and a half solar days. Without it, the slightest nick with mean death even with his microbe augmentation.   
  
He set the eight rings aside and reached for a second larger case. Opening the case he reached in and pulled out the weapon inside. The handgun was a little smaller then a Peacekeeper issue Pulse Pistol, however this weapon was not a pulse gun. He next removed a second part from the container. This piece was the gun's power source and he attached to a lug set into the pistol's frame just below the barrel. The charge pack locked into place with the satisfying click of a well-machined tool. Left in the case was three more pieces to the weapon - three fully loaded magazines.  
Berret picked up the first one and slapped it into the gun's magazine well in the handgrip.  
The Shrike took the now assembled firearm with him over to the rear corner of his room where he earlier placed a large hard-skinned melon-type fruit on a chair. He draped a Peacekeeper flack vest that he'd brought with him from Moya over the top of the object and moved back several paces. Berret raised the pistol and aimed it at the makeshift target. He squeezed the trigger and the weapon sighed softly, almost at the same instant there was a hard slap from the vest and the melon-like fruit underneath it burst into several pieces.  
The Shrike retrieved the armored vest and inspected the tiny hole in the front of it - it was little larger then one-sixteenth of a henta in diameter. The melon underneath it had been blow apart from the inside.  
The weapon Berret held was a Needler. A projectile firearm that fired slim needle-like darts that where capable of piercing light to medium armor, or the toughest hide, because of their speed and small bore diameter. A Scarren's skin could defeat multiple pulse blast hits but faired poorly against a weapon like a Needler. The projectiles also were designed to blow up upon entering an organic material, thus causing the most damage possible. The gun was virtually silent when fired unless the needle-darts hit a solid object. Each magazine held seventy-five projectiles and the gun had selectable firing modes from single shot to fully automatic. A very helpful assassination weapon, it was kind of Arckatius to outfit the Wraith with one, Berret thought to himself with a grim smile.  
  
He set the gun aside with his other equipment and paused a moment to ponder his next move. The small being he'd kidnapped was a fountain of useful information. Arckatius and his party had taken over the whole upper floor of the Inn and had installed varies security measures. Berret was going to need a security chip if he wanted to get close enough to the Scarren to kill him in his lair. He'd thought about waiting till he was out in the open again, but as it turns out, Arckatius rarely left the safety of his rooms. That day Berret had found him on the street had been a rare occasion. The ex-assassin also took into consideration that they wouldn't expect an attack from inside their defenses. Somehow he was going to have to get his hands on a chip... and do it soon. While Alppa had been helpful, abducting the Inn worker had also set him on a timetable. The rodent-like being would be missed tomorrow evening when he didn't report for work. Berret couldn't chance that the occurrence might cause the Syndicate to become suspicious.  
He considered the security chip problem for the moment. Logically, some sort of security computer would catalog them - so he would need one from an Enforcer. It wouldn't due to have him appear in Shrike garb only to be scanned as a messenger, that would certainly warn somebody that something was amiss.   
His only course of action would then be to obtain a chip from one of Arckatius' assassins.   
  
Berret equipped himself with several more weapons and a few tools from his bags and went back out to the café next door to his rooming house. He set himself back at a table where he could watch the comings and goings across the street at Arckatius' building. He was hoping to find a Shrike being sent out on some errand alone. He had been sitting there for over a quarter arn when a voice asked for his attention.  
"Hello, looking for some company?"  
Berret turned to see a humanoid woman with facial tattoos and eyes with pupils that were reptile-like slits.  
"Do you mind if I have a seat?" she asked next.  
Before the Shrike could reply he didn't want company, the Nebari girl he'd seen in the café before appeared beside the table from out of the crowd.  
"Back off, tralk," the Nebari girl spat, "I saw him first."  
The tattoo woman looked as if she were going to violently protest the gray girl's claim, but a wicked grin from the Nebari told her that the she would welcome a altercation with the tattooed female.  
The woman deemed it best she leave the Nebari with her conquest and look for other game elsewhere.  
The gray woman watched her leave for a moment and then turned back to Berret.  
"You can't be too careful," she said, with a tiny sly smirk. "That tralk would have stole every credit you had."  
"Doubtful," Berret replied as he ignored the girl and went back to watching the building across the street.  
"You're a cocky, fellow. I like that," the Nebari went on with a tilt of her head. Berret's indifference seemed to entertain her somehow. "You can't trust an Xzulian, especially the females. She would have tricked you out of all your money and left you laying in an alley somewhere... if you were lucky."  
"And you wouldn't have," Berret enquired tonelessly.  
The girl smiled and took a seat without asking. "I would have given you something memorable in return." Berret looked at her with an unchanging blank expression on his face. Undaunted the girl leaned in closer.  
"I saw you looking at me the other day," she said in a low sultry voice.  
"You remind me of someone I use to know," Berret replied without thinking.  
The gray woman's smile brightened. "Someone pleasant I hope," she said.  
"No. I'm afraid we parted on less then friendly terms," the Shrike answered coolly.   
The gray girl smiled broadly. "I guess that's lucky for me then," she cooed. She ran one fingertip seductively across the leather shoulder of Berret's jacket.  
"No, its not," the Shrike replied and removed her hand.  
Still not giving up, the Nebari female dragged her seat closer to Berret's.  
"Look," she said, speaking now in a low serious tone that only he could hear. "You're here alone, I'm alone... I can show you a good time for just a few drennets. Come on, you won't regret it." She placed one hand against the ex-Enforcer's chest, doing her best to win him over with her promises and dark eyes. Berret didn't appear to be phased in the least. "Please," she then said, "It's been a slow night and I need to make some money to show my... 'friend'... or I'll be in big trouble."  
"You mean your purveyor," Berret corrected.  
The girl gave him a shallow nod, "Yeah... my purveyor," she admitted quietly.  
Berret regarded her with emotionless eyes; the gray woman began to squirm in her seat.  
"Look," she said again, "I don't want to be a tralk but I have to survive some way. I really don't want to have to leave here with one of these others," she explained while motioning to the crowd around them. "There's something going on in town and I have a bad feeling about some of the nurfers that have been coming into this place the last few weekens. Please, you can do whatever you want too with me as long as you don't hurt me too badly."  
Berret felt the gorge rise in his throat. A cold fury settled in his bones at what this young girl had been forced to become. In another time and place, she might have been Chiana.  
"I have no desire to hurt you," he replied, fighting to keep the sudden anger out of his voice.  
The Nebari seemed to deflate as the tension left her. "So you want to..." she began.  
"How old are you?" Berret cut her off.  
"What?"  
"I asked, what is your age?"  
The Nebari female looked confused. "What the hezmana has that to do with..."  
She let the sentence fall off as Berret narrowed his eyes in annoyance.   
"Twenty cycles," she then supplied.  
The Shrike merely nodded. It was as he thought. The girl was around Chiana's age.  
"When did you run away from Nebari Prime?" he asked of her next.  
The girl's mouth fell open and she looked as if she were considering getting up and bolting from the table. Berret held out one hand to halt her before she could. "Don't worry, I have no intention of turning you in. I am merely curious," he told her.  
The young woman settled back into her seat with a look of bewilderment.  
"I ran away three and a half cycles ago," she answered. "Why all the questions?" she asked suspiciously.  
"As I said... only curiosity."  
The girl narrowed her eyes back at Berret. "Well, curiosity doesn't put credits in my pocket," she announced. "Are we going to go somewhere and frell or what?" she then demanded to know.  
The ex-assassin pursed his lips tightly together in thought for a moment, and then slid a fifty-credit chip over to her.  
"I have yet to decide," he told her, "That should cover your time until I do."  
The girl made the currency disappear almost as fast as another Nebari female he knew.  
"When will you know?" she asked hesitantly. It was clear she had never run into a situation such as this.  
Berret shrugged both shoulders and simply said, "That remains to be seen."  
The Nebari found herself thinking that this male was surely odd. Still he looked safer and for some unknown reason, she did feel safer in his company - at least for the moment.  
"So what do you want us to do in the mean time?" she inquired.  
Again the nonchalant shrug. "Talk?" the man suggested.  
"About what?"  
"Whatever you want," he answered with a smile that didn't touch his pale blue eyes.  
"I don't know where to began?" she responded. Usually she knew how to play and banter with her customers. This man was something completely different for her.  
"Perhaps you can start by telling me your name?" the tall man said.  
"Lark," the Nebari replied, "My name is Lark."  
The humanoid male smiled. It was obvious he knew that wasn't her real name at all, but he let it go.  
"Greetings, Lark," he said with that cold smile again. "My name is Sinn."  
  
Berret only half listened to the Nebari girl's conversation. Most of his attention was on the building across the street from them. Originally he had planned on letting the girl stay with him only so he didn't appear too conspicuous sitting there by himself. Slowly a plan started to emerge where he thought he might be able to use this girl to get what he wanted. He turned the thoughts over in his head while occasionally grunting a half thought out reply to whatever the Nebari happen to be saying at the moment.  
Abruptly he turned to her and asked, "Do you know where a Forge-craftsman shop is located in the area?"  
Lark's head snapped up in surprise at the question.  
"What?" she asked in puzzlement.  
"A metal worker's shop, do you know where one is?"  
"These is one down the block and three streets over," Lark replied mystified.  
"Take me there," Berret ordered.  
The gray woman shrugged a shoulder and agreed to take him to the place he wanted. She had just led him out on the sidewalk when a dark form blocked their way. Lark's sharp inhale of breath alerted the Shrike to something being wrong. Berret glanced up and a cruel smile of gold greeted him.  
  
"So, Lark?" said the male humanoid with the gold teeth. "How has business been tonight?"  
If it was possible to turn any paler the Nebari girl did so in that instant. The bluish tint leaving her skin as the blood drained away in fright.  
"Mekklah!" the girl exclaimed. "Its - its been slow tonight. I - I - I've only been able to have one meeting so far is all," the girl explained while waving to Berret.  
"I see," drawled the purveyor and then he sadly shook his head. "That is not good news, Lark. Not good at all. You are falling way behind the others."  
"Please, Mekklah... the night isn't over yet,' Lark pleaded, "There's still time to find more."  
Mekklah shook his head and showed his teeth again in a sinister smile.  
"That is not good enough, Lark - my sweet," he replied. "You were already supposed to have had more then one meeting by now. I'm afraid I'm going to have to punish you... once again."  
"No! Please!" the Nebari girl begged in a low moan.  
Mekklah ignored her and turned to Berret. "It would be best for you to conclude your business with Lark right away. She has other obligations tonight I am so very afraid."  
Unmoved, Berret regarded the humanoid with an upraised eyebrow.  
"I am not going to have trouble with you, am I, my friend?" Mekklah asked. He swept back his expensive looking coat to expose a static-net projector and a large knife to the other man.  
A broad smile graced Berret's face in the next moment.  
"Of course not," the Shrike replied while warily eyeing the weapons with what Mekklah took to be respect. "I was thinking perhaps we could work out an arrangement for the tralk's services for the rest of the night."  
"Oh? Do tell," Mekklah replied in interest. Berret had held up several hundred-credit chips as he spoke.  
"I was also thinking... seeing as that you were going to punish her anyway... that you might not mind getting her back in, shall we say, slightly damaged condition?"  
Lark's face shifted over to a look of sudden horror. How could she have been that badly mistaken about the man who called himself Sinn? The asked for trip to a metalworker's shop must have been a trick to get her alone and catch her off guard.  
"That might be arranged," said Mekklah. "However, it will cost you at least twice as much as you just showed me. Lark can be a very valuable property when she behaves."  
Berret nodded. "Certainly," he said and then looked around them. "Shall we negotiate price somewhere more private, where the three of us will not be seen together?" he asked.  
"A wise precaution," agreed the purveyor. "Will around back of the café be all right?"  
"Perfect," Berret said with a satisfied look.  
Mekklah turned and forced Lark on ahead of him down the walk to the back of the establishment. Berret followed behind them, jiggling the credit chips in his hand.  
Once out of sight of the public, the purveyor turned back to Berret.  
"Now, I believed you showed me four one-hundred credit chips?"  
Berret nodded that he was correct. "Yes, I did," he verbally confirmed.  
"Good," said Mekklah, "Lark's price for the night will be twice that. Payable now."  
"Agreed," Berret replied. "What happens if there is an... unfortunate accident?"  
The humanoid smirked, "Then you owe another thousand credits and you are responsible for getting rid of her body."  
Lark began to panic. "No!" she cried. It wasn't uncommon for females in her profession to disappear and never be seen again after deals like this were made. Mekklah backhanded her, sending her crashing into a trash bin.  
"Quiet, tralk!" Mekklah snarled. He faced the Shrike again, letting his coat fall open to remind him that the purveyor was well armed. "You do mean to kill her, I take it?" he asked Berret bluntly.  
The ex-assassin smiled and shrugged, "Things have been know to become unexpectedly rough."  
"Then maybe I should charge you the addition thousand credits now? It will save me having to find you later when Lark doesn't return," Mekklah suggested.  
"No, I have changed my mind. I don't think I want to kill her after all," Berret said casually, "I think I'll kill you instead."  
Mekklah paused a microt and his eyes narrowed as if he'd misheard the man.  
"What?" he asked.  
"I said, I think I'll kill you instead of her," Berret repeated. "You'll be much more fun... and it won't cost me a drennet."  
The purveyor scowled. "I have had enough of you," he spat and reached for his static-net projector.  
Berret knew what he'd planned to do... it was a classic technique for purveyors to use on non-paying customers, or someone they wanted to teach a lesson too. Mekklah planned on using the static-net to snare and hold Berret while he took his time working him over with the blade. Berret had other plans. The Shrike's eyes suddenly flared silver in the dim light of the back lot. Just as Mekklah's hand reached the grip of the projector, the edge of Berret's stiffened hand struck his upper arm, shattering the bones and making the limb suddenly useless. Before the pain could register, the Shrike shifted his position inward and used his weigh and momentum to slam an opened palm-heel into Mekklah's face. The ex-Enforcer flowed behind the other man in one smooth fluid move, reaching into one jacket sleeve, Berret tugged out a wooded handle attached to a high-tensile strength wire. In a flash, the wire encircled Mekklah's throat. The Shrike tightened the metal noose, cutting off any further sounds Mekklah might have made. The purveyor began to dig at his neck as Berret spun his back to Mekklah's back. The Shrike dropped his center of gravity so that it was lower then the other man's and yanked hard downward on the garrote handles from over his shoulder. Mekklah was forced by the wire around his throat to flip backwards over Berret's back. Mid-way through the throw, the Shrike then yanked hard upwards. The purveyor's neck snapped and he was dead before his body hit the ground in front of Berret.  
It was over in almost a blink of an eye. Behind him, Lark began to make a wordless cry of despair as it happened.   
Berret looked at the lifeless man. "Another death... another death," the litany ran over and over in his head. "Another death just to end Arckatius," it sang. He pushed the thought away and hardened himself. He needed the girl's help... and this man deserved what he got. He reached down, and with the help of his microbe augmented muscles, lifted the body up.  
Lark ended her cry. "What have you done?" she asked, her voice tiny and weak.  
Berret heaved the corpse into a nearby commercial trash bin and slammed the lid shut after it.  
"Renegotiated your business arrangement with Mekklah," he answered tonelessly.  
The girl began the wordless cry once more and turned to flee, Berret seized her by the arm.  
"Let me go!" the girl cried.  
"No!" Berret snapped. "Mekklah owned you, now he's dead. Now I own you... and you will do exactly what I tell you or you will join him."   
As soon as he said it, he hated the sound of it. He'd just announced that he owned another living being.  
In order to kill those he despised so much... he had just become like them.   
  
Moya cruised into the system she had been asked to head too. In the Den, Pilot worked at his station with a perplexed look on his face. He keyed the comm open to the Command Tier.  
"Aeryn, Crichton," he said, "We have entered the system with the coordinates that this Nireese person gave to you... there is nothing here. Moya's scans show nothing in the immediate area."  
"Thank you, Pilot," replied the ex-Peacekeeper, who then turned to look at Crichton.  
John in turn, looked over at Nireese. "Okay, Mata Hari... we're here. So what's the big plan with having to get here..." he said with a wave at the empty view screen, "If there's nothing here!"  
Nireese smiled pleasantly and pushed herself off the control pedestal that she and Chiana had been leaning against.  
"Patience, John Crichton," the First Shrike advised, then turned to Pilot on the holo-comm, "Pilot, if you and Moya would be so kind as to come within one metra of that iron bearing asteroid straight ahead of us... you can't miss it."  
"Yes, we see it," answered Moya's helmsman. Before complying with the request he turned to look at the others. John shrugged and Aeryn copied him with her own shrug afterwards.  
"Yes, Pilot," Zhaan broke it, "Let us find out what is there then."  
"We are proceeding," Pilot confirmed a few microts later. Moya maneuvered the distance and came to a dead halt again at the desired point. "We have arrived," advised Pilot. "There is still nothing but the asteroid here."  
D'argo growled low in the back of his throat. "Well?" he asked in annoyance.  
In response, Nireese keyed her own comm badge.  
"Kal'risa na-ToVa, Nireeseka," she spoke into the communication device.  
There was a low acknowledgement tone from her comm badge and on the forward viewer; the asteroid began to slowly disintegrate before them.   
"The asteroid is starting to break apart!" cried Pilot excitedly, "There... there's something inside!"  
Aeryn squinted her eyes. "It's a ship!" she exclaimed a moment later.  
"It's a Simterrian trader vessel," confirmed D'argo just a microt behind Aeryn.  
"Its more than that," put in Nireese with a confident smile. "Its our ride into Scarren space." She turned to look over her shoulder at the rest of the crew. "Compliments of the Mek-Klor-TaZ Clan... and Master Shenna." 


	10. Chapter 9

The ex-assassin held Lark by the arm as they made their way down the sparsely lit street. The Nebari girl still sniffled out loud occasionally and looked more then obviously fearful of the man next to her.  
"Stop your crying," Berret hissed in warning to her. "You will not be harmed as long as you cooperate and do not draw attention to us."  
The gray girl sniffed one last time and wipe at her eyes with her free hand. She then nodded her compliance to the Shrike and did her best to appear as if everything was normal.  
"Much better," he said in a low tone, "Now how much further to the metalworker's store?"  
"Its in the middle of the next block," Lark answered.  
They reached the shop and the Shrike instructed the girl to remain silent while he conducted his business.  
Inside, Berret met the craftsman and looked through his stock of cutlery. Within a few microns he found exactly what he was looking for.  
"That's an interesting piece," the metalworkers observed, "One of my best works. The gentleman who originally ordered it never returned to pick it up."  
"It will do," replied the Shrike noncommittally. In his hand he held a well-balanced throwing axe. The entire weapon was a little over fifteen henta long. The main blade had a nine henta long cutting edge with the very top of the blade ending in a wicked point that could be used for stabbing if need be. The secondary blade was smaller, with only about a three and a half henta edge, but it had a deep hook on the back of the blade that would be useful for snaring and trapping something on a back swing. The entire instrument was constructed from one solid piece of steel. Berret hefted the axe and looked back at the shop owner.  
"I want you to do some further work on this... tonight. I will be back for it in the morning," he said.  
"I'm afraid that won't be possible," the craftsman replied apologetically, "I have several other..."  
Berret interrupted the man by slapping down several Scarran Krendar on the counter.  
"They will have to wait," the ex-Enforcer told him. He grabbed a piece of paper and hastily wrote out a few things on it. "I want the edges reworked with these elements... and do not upset the weapon's balance."  
The metal smith gazed at the list; his eyes flew open wider as he read them.  
"But these are..." he started, and then looked back at the Scarran currency. Something suddenly came together for the man and he swallowed before going on, "These materials are very expensive... sir."  
Berret raised an eyebrow in question... letting his silence do the talking for him.  
"I will also need a Qualta inlay to keep the original metal and this new... 'material' separated."  
The Shrike threw a few more Krendar on top of the others already on the counter. "Do it," he ordered.  
"I'll start at once," assured the craftsman as he scooped the money and the axe up.  
Berret gave him a satisfied nod. "I don't have to tell you how discreet a matter this is," he said sternly.  
"No, sir. Not at all," the shop owner answered respectfully. "Not a word."  
"Very good," the Shrike finished and then turning to the Nebari said, "Attend me."  
Lark obediently came to his side and together they exited the shop.  
The shop owner wiped at the sudden sweat that had developed on his head as the pair left his storefront.  
He flipped the closed sign over and locked his front door to head back to his forge.  
Idly he wondered what he'd done to deserve a visit from the Syndicate. The only thing he knew for sure was he was going to complete the work as quickly as possible and forget he'd ever saw the man and his Nebari whore.  
  
Aeryn threw open the pressure-hatch and climbed up out of the Trader ship's engine deck.  
"You're not going to believe what this pile of Trat is using for a power core," she announced as she slammed the hatch shut behind her and dogged it down. "Its got a standard Marauder hetch-drive with Ion induced force-chambers on the intermix."  
Andar gave a low whistle and D'argo looked impressed at the ex-Peacekeeper's report.   
John looked confused. "Yeah? So what does that mean?" he asked.  
"It means, Crichton," Aeryn continued with a smile, "That this rusting bucket of freck-carb can fly circles around even a Attack-Marauder... if the hull doesn't fall apart first."   
"So it's a Hot-Rod," John concluded.  
"A hot what?" asked the Sebacean woman. She then waved the question off thinking it was best he didn't waste the time to try and explain it.  
Sean ran his hands over an instrument bank. "Oh, you're just prejudice cuz this isn't as pretty as a Prowler, Aeryn," the younger Crichton said. "She looks like she's built pretty sturdy to me."  
Chiana gave a good-natured chortle. " Hah! Even a cargo crate is more sturdy then what you humans fly around in." She gave Sean a bright smile to show she was teasing, the first one the Nebari had worn in many solar days. Sean dramatically clutched at the area around his heart as if he'd been gravely wounded, then smiled back to share in the joke.  
Nireese patted a near-by bulkhead support.  
"She even has a concealed weapons system," announced the woman.  
"What sort of weapons?" inquired the Luxan.  
"There are duel pulse cannon hidden behind retractable hull plates fore and aft," the half-Nebari Shrike explained. "There are also two retractable gun turrets, one in the keel and the other topside. The cargo bay has a false deck just inside the main cargo door with three JATO cruise missiles. Targeting systems are tied into ship's sensors or can be manually operated from several concealed control panels throughout the ship."  
"Sounds impressive," John said.  
Nireese nodded. "The only drawback is that all the power sources for the weapons are located under the engines so their power signatures won't show when we're scanned."  
"So one hit that takes out our engines, also takes out our weapons," Aeryn put in, immediately seeing the negative aspect.   
The First Shrike shrugged, "It was a necessary trade-off to hide the armaments."  
"Otherwise, we wouldn't look like a common trader vessel to anyone who probed us," D'argo added.  
"Precisely," affirmed Nireese.  
"So what other little surprises does this toy have," asked Andar. The female Shrike turned to face him and gave the Sebacean man a flirting smile at his question.  
"Yes," put in Malika drolly as she moved to the ex-teacher's side, "Do tell."  
Nireese keep the smile on her face, despite the young Delvians attempt at light sarcasm with her tone.  
"I can do better then that, " she responded. "Follow me and I'll show you."  
  
The First Shrike led them down to the lowest deck of the three-tiered ship, which was craft's cargo area.  
The Simterrian Trader vessel was so outsized that Pilot was only able to use the docking web to bring the ship into Moya's landing bay. It was simply too large to make it through the pressure doors and into the hanger bay where the Pods and the rest of the ships were stored. The Leviathan had to close her outer space doors and pressurize the cavernous bay so the crew could work on the spacecraft.   
When they assembled in the cargo hold they found Rygel all ready there ahead of them.  
"As you can see," Nireese said, pointing at the stacks of crates around them, "In order to save us time, the Clan has already supplied us with suitable freight to trade with as a front for our mission."  
Rygel pounced from his thronesled onto an oddly shape container set aside from the rest of the shipment.  
"Oh, no... not this one!" he exclaimed. He threw himself bodily across the chest-like box as if daring anyone to raise a hand and try to remove him from it. "I can smell them! I know what's in here and it's staying!"  
Nireese blinked her brown eyes at the Hynerian's strange behavior for a microt, and then she remembered a detail she had forgotten until that point.  
"Ah, please forgive me, Dominar Rygel," she said, "Of course not that one. I had forgotten about it with all the planning. That one is a gift from Master Shenna to you."  
"What's in it?" asked D'argo; even though he had a feeling he'd rather not know for some reason.  
Nireese opened her mouth to answer, but Rygel cut her off before she could.  
"Marjols!" he exclaimed blissfully. "Sweet - Fresh - Tasty - MARJOLS!" His eyes abruptly narrowed and he regarded the others around him warily. "And they're ALL MINE!" he snapped, "None of you are getting any! So don't ask!"  
John made a sour face. "I don't think there's any danger of that, Spanky," he replied.  
"No, I think not," agreed Aeryn.  
"Definitely," threw in the Luxan warrior. "What else do you have to show us, Nireese?"  
The half-Nebari smiled and waved a casual hand around the cargo hold.  
"Besides the obvious freight, what typical cargo ship wouldn't be carrying a little contraband?"  
At the nearest bulkhead, she struck a plate in the upper corner and it dislodged itself from the wall, revealing a hidden compartment. She did the same to the next hull plate in line and uncovered a second hideaway. The crew looked into the cubby holes to find both filled with cases of Banja fruit wine.  
"That's very nice," said the ex-Peacekeeper, "But they're not very well concealed. Any first year cadet would detect them on their first inspection of the cargo bay."  
"That's exactly the point, Officer Sun," explained the First Shrike, "They're meant to be found."  
Andar scratched at his chin. "For what?" he asked.   
Aeryn zeroed right in on the ploy. "To throw who's ever looking off from finding what you really don't want them to find."  
"Exactly," Nireese said.  
"Somebody finds the hidden stash of untaxed wine and thinks they've caught out what you're hiding," Malika put in. "Once they uncover it, they're probably stop searching."  
"Especially once we offer them a bribe to forget about discovering the hidden shipment. They will think that is what we want to protect," continued the female Shrike.  
"That's a very clever plan," Aeryn said. "The port authorities will think we are only running illegal liquor and after accepting a bribe, will be inclined to look the other way while we conduct our business."  
Zhaan put in, "An being as its only wine they believe we are smuggling, we will not be worth another visit for the purpose of further bribery."   
"That's great, so they'll leave us alone," said Sean. "But the real question is... what ARE we smuggling?"  
"And where is it really?" added the older Crichton.  
Nireese gave them a wicked grin that would have done Chiana proud.  
"There are several concealed caches around the ship. The main one is out in the corridor under the deck plates. You all walked over it as you entered the cargo hold," explained the half-Nebari Shrike. "It contains mostly weapons, explosives, and some of the larger equipment it was thought we might need. The other hideaways contain items such as disguises, forged ident-chips and other useful documents, various amounts of currency in different denominations, surveillance devices, medical supplies, and other items perhaps better left unmentioned for the time being."  
Chiana gave a low whistle, "Seems like Shenna thought of almost everything," she said.  
"As much as our tactical experts could think of," Nireese answered.  
The crew looked around at each other and nodded, apparently please with Nireese's preparations.  
"So," Chiana piped up, "When do we leave?"  
  
Back at Berret's rented rooms, Lark almost balked when she noticed the still unconscious form of Alppa lying on the floor by the sleeping platform. The Nebari prostitute looked as if she were about to flee but a glare from the Shrike changed her mind. Instead she stood meekly in a corner and waited to see what her captor would do with her next.  
"What are you going to do with me?" she found the nerve to timidly ask after the ex-Enforcer checked on the rodent-like being.  
"That depends on you," answered Berret noncommittally.   
The Nebari girl looked around the room and took in the piles of equipment, some of which, she knew right away were weapons.  
"Look, Sinn," she started, "Whatever you're involved in... I really don't want a part of it."  
The man who called himself Sinn sorted through several devices before picking one up to examine it.  
"So you wish me to kill you now then?" he asked nonchalantly as he made an adjustment on the object he was holding. The unfeeling tone of the male's voice made the girl shiver involuntarily.   
'No, I just want to be let go," Lark pleaded.  
Berret shook his head. "I can't do that," he said. "You know too much about me now... and I may need your help."  
"Help with what?" Lark found herself asking despite her fear.  
Berret only smiled as he worked on the device.  
"Help with what, Sinn?" she asked again more urgently.  
The Shrike turned to look at her. "Killing the head of a Syndicate House," he finally answered.  
Lark's face drained of its bluish tint at his reply. "Oh gods!" she moaned, "You're mad."   
The ex-Enforcer turned back to his work. "Some would say that," he replied absently. "And they're probably right."  
The gray looked away from the man. "I think I would rather you just killed me outright then what the Black Syndicate would do to me if they caught us," she told him in a tiny voice.  
Berret looked back over at the Nebari with his dead eyes.  
"They've already done it to you," he simply said.  
"Done what?" Lark asked in confusion.  
"They've already killed you," Berret supplied. "It just hasn't happened yet."  
The girl looked at him as if he'd just removed his head in front of her.  
"What are you talking about? I've never dealt with the Syndicate," she replied, "And I'm not dead!"  
In response, Berret shot to his feet and grabbed the girl under her chin. His hand clamped down over her jaws to hold her head still. Before Lark could react, he jammed the device he had been working on against the side of her neck. There was a prick of a needle and a tiny whirring sound. Lark yelp in surprise, thinking he meant to kill her with whatever the device was. The small machine chimed, and the Shrike released her.  
"What did you just do?" Lark demanded as she rubbed at her neck.   
Berret ignored her for the moment as he read the readout on the small gadget.   
"You have it," he announced a few microts later and then tossed the device to the stunned girl.  
"Have what?" she exclaimed as she fumbled with the object.  
"The Contagion."  
Lark gazed at him in bewilderment. "What? What contagion?" she asked, "What the hezmana are you talking about?"  
Berret sat back down in the chair by his makeshift worktable.   
"You didn't just escape from Nebari Prime," he finally told her.  
"I didn't?"  
The Shrike shook his head sadly. "No, you didn't. They allowed you and a number of others to think you escaped," he explained. "Before you left, the establishment infected you all with the Contagion."  
"But why?" inquired the gray woman.  
"So you would go out into the territories and do exactly what you're doing now. Its spread by sexual contact."  
Lark looked at the device in her had that she now recognized as a portable field med-scanner.   
"And that is what this retro-virus is on the scanner? The Contagion?" she asked next.  
Berret nodded his head in the affirmative.  
"How do I know you're not lying to me?"  
The Shrike shrugged. "Recalibrate the scanner and retest yourself," he said, "You'll get the same results.  
The girl considered his words and thought a moment before asking, "What has all this to do with the Black Syndicate?"  
Berret settled back in his chair and crossed his leg like he'd seen John do on countless occasions to get comfortable.  
"Who do you think supplied the virus to the Establishment?" he explained. "Your government saw it had a useful tool in certain fractions of the younger generation of Nebari. You thought you were rebelling against the Establishment instead it was using you. It contacted the Syndicate and had their chemists design the Contagion, which they gave to certain students at the academy that they deemed troublemakers. They let you all escape to spread it throughout the Territories. Later after it was epidemic, they would step in with the cure and take over."  
Lark digested the information with growing dread. "Then what happens?" she asked, afraid to hear the answer. "What happens to those of us who are carriers?"  
"Its fatal," Berret answered, "I would say you have perhaps two more cycles before you self terminate. The infection was designed that way. Your people didn't want to leave any evidence behind to implicate them."  
  
Lark moaned and hugged herself after hearing the news. Berret looked on as emotionless as ever.   
"What am I going to do?" she asked out loud, not really expecting an answer from the man she called Sinn.  
"Help me take your revenge," Berret supplied.  
The Nebari looked back up at him with pain filled eyes. "What can we do against the Syndicate?" she asked him. "We're just two against thousands... millions! We don't stand a chance."  
"If that's your belief, then you've already lost," the Shrike replied.  
"Lost? I'm already dead in two cycles!" Lark cried. "At least I have that. If I do anything against the Syndicate they'll kill me now."  
Berret nodded. "Yes, they might. But if you wait two cycles, then the disease will ravage your body. You will slowly rot from the inside out, cell-by-cell. It was designed to be a long lingering death for the victims in order to put fear into the rest of the infected populace. Just think how the rest of the Territories would willingly rush to conform to the Nebari way as the price for the cure."  
"How do you know all this?" Lark inquired sadly.  
Berret's eyes faltered for a moment.  
"The other Nebari..." he finally said, "The one I knew before. She was infected at one time."  
"Was?" Lark picked up, "You said she 'was infected,' Does that mean she's not anymore?" she asked with hope building in her voice. "You don't talk about her like she's dead."  
Berret hadn't intended to tell her about the cure the Nebari resistance had found, at least not until he'd secured her help in his cause. It was cruel of him he knew, but he felt he had no other choice.  
Besides, life in the Territories was rarely fair.  
Still, those dark pleading eyes reminded him so much of Chiana... and the way he had betrayed her before leaving Moya. He found his resolve weakening despite his decision to use the girl for whatever advantage he could.  
"Yes, someone did find a cure," he finally admitted.  
The Nebari woman's eyes opened wide in shock and disbelief.  
"You knew about it," she accused, "And you weren't going to tell me about it, were you?"  
"Yes... and, no," Berret answered tonelessly.  
Lark's eyes hardened, she appeared speechless for a microt and then she flung the med-scanner at the wall behind him. Berret didn't so much as flinch as the device struck the wall.  
"You frelling bastard!" she exclaimed.  
"Yes, I am," Berret agreed. "However, I do not know what the cure itself is - but I do know who does."  
"Tell me!" Lark demanded.  
The ex-Enforcer shook his head, "No," he told her.  
Lark looked as he he'd just stabbed her in the heart.  
"Why not!" she challenged.  
"The price for that information is your assistance in helping me kill the Scarran I want to kill."  
Lark glared at the man before her, "So I'm dead either way!"  
The Shrike regarded his prisoner with calm features.  
"That depends on how well you execute your part of the plan," he said. "After you've done what I've asked of you, I will tell you were to go to find your cure."  
"Frell you! You son of a Lammetsa!" she cursed at him, "What other choice do I have now?"  
"None that I can see."  
The gray girl moved over to sit on the floor with her back up against the wall furthest from the Shrike. Her gray hands worried at her long white hair and she bowed her head to hide her face from the man across from her.  
"No wonder that other Nebari girl left you," Lark muttered to herself. "If you can do something like this to someone who's never done anything to harm you."  
"It was for the best," Berret surprised her by replying quietly. "And I have done far worse things in my life than what I'm doing to you."  
Larked lifted her head a bit to regard him.   
"Goddess, damn you," she muttered again.  
Berret turned back to his worktable to continue his preparations.  
"We're all damned," he murmured in return. 


	11. Chapter 10

"How in hell are we gonna get through that?" asked John as the immense Scarran Inspection Station filled the forward view screen of the freighter. The trader ship followed an exact course given to them by traffic control. The group had departed and left Moya concealed in an iron bearing asteroid field several arns behind them, safe from Peacekeeper and Scarran detection. The older Crichton knew there would be a check point upon entering Scarran space, but he had no idea the base would be so huge - or so well surrounded by Scarran warships and defense satellites.  
Aeryn adjusted a control for the craft's engines as the station's docking web seized the vessel and hauled it into an inspection bay.  
"A better question is: How are we going to get through a twelve solar day inspection by the Scarrans without our true nature being discovered?" the ex-Peacekeeper asked out loud.  
"That's what I'd like to know," added Sean.  
"I'm not looking forward to being a Scarran prisoner," Chiana nervously piped up.  
"I'd rather die," D'argo muttered stoically.  
Malika fidgeted with excess energy while Andar rubbed at his chin in thought.  
"Berret probably used the Wraith's Stealth System to pass through the boarder undetected," the male Sebacean commented to the group.  
"A lot of good that does us," murmured the young Delvian as she laid one hand unconsciously over the hilt of her fighting knife. Andar smiled as he glanced back at the girl beside him, remembering the interesting turn their relationship had taken in the last few days. The ex-teacher was dressed in clothing in shades of dark gray and coal black, staying away from PK leather for the most part; the material his current attire was made of was almost just as tough and was designed for hard use and long life. He now looked the part of a freighter merchant. Andar did however wear a well-worn leather vest that he had altered with Malika's help, adding in secret pockets and compartments for his tools and other devices. The one exception he made for his own personal comfort was that he retained his own boots, rejecting the ones that Nireese had flirting offered him as part of his disguise - much to the Delvian girl's continued annoyance. His own footwear seemed more practical at any rate; seeing that the tops that were normally folded over could be rolled upward over his knees to cover the bottom part of his thighs and belted on to give his legs more protection. A useful design for someone who grew up on a rural planet where you might find yourself having to travel cross untamed wilderness to get from town to village to city.   
The disguise also gave him a chance to try out another item of apparel from his world that he'd managed to find the material to construct. Wrapped around the Sebacean man's waist was a silk sash dyed a dark blood red in color, nothing unusual at first glance unless you inspected the ornamental band to discover the slightly weighted ends of the silk wrap. The sash was called a Lore-rope on his homeworld and was used by ranchers to herd and manage their stocks of Rozzeler, large flightless bird-like creatures about the size of a full-grown man with hard hoof-like clawed feet that could shatter a unlucky man's bones if they decided to kick or disembowel a careless one if he was close enough to a Rozzeler in a foul mood.  
The weighted ends of the sash were hollow metallic tubes filled with a liquid metal with a kinetic-mass property. When the ends of the sash were spun the weight of the liquid metal increase in proportion to speed, thus the faster you whipped the sash around the heavier the weights became. The Lore-rope depending on how fast you wielded it could be used the snare the legs of a Rozzeler to bring them down or shot out of a spin with a snapping motion to have the weight shatter the creature's thick skull if needed.  
The silk was also an import component, as it had to have tensile strength. Andar managed to find some that was on the grade of the Acquarian silk that made up Berret's Shrike cloak. The ex-teacher had spent many summers in his youth on his uncle's Rozzeler ranch and had learned how to master the Lore-rope. After a demonstration of the device to his crewmates aboard Moya, Sean had been very impressed with the way the seeming innocent sash had smashed a hole through one of the heavy plastic-like cargo containers in the storage bay. After an insistent inquiry to teach him the weapon, Andar showed Sean the basics of Lore-rope use. On his first attempt to spin the sash, the younger Crichton nearly knocked himself unconscious. Sean afterwards handed the weapon back to Andar with an untrusting glare and vowed to stick to his own weaponry from then on.  
  
John glanced over at Nireese who was manning the communication system. The half-Nebari woman had been the one who contacted the Inspection Station and asked for permission to enter Scarran space. As they approached the large structure, none of the crew gave the First Shrike much attention.  
"So Mata Hari, how are we suppose to get around twelve days of having the Scarran Inmigra' crawling up our butts?" the astronaut asked.  
"That has already been taken care of, John Crichton," Nireese answered offhandedly.  
The ship had come to rest in it's berth and before anyone else could ask another question of the First Shrike, the lighting in the Inspection bay flickered and went dark.  
"What's happening?" D'argo barked.  
Zhaan glanced at a sensor screen. "All power to the bay's systems is offline," she reported.  
The crew saw Nireese smile in the glow of freighter's helm lights.   
"Any microt now," the half-Nebari said lightly with a glance out of the forward view screen.  
The Inspection bay's overhead lighting flickered to life once more, and to the crewmate's shock,  
The exit doors in front of their craft began to open with a heavy rumble.  
"What the hell's going on?" asked Sean in bewilderment.  
As the depths of Scarran space was slowly revealed to them through the opening space-doors, the freighter was pushed forward toward freedom by the station's docking web.  
"Did we miss something?" John inquired as the ship lurched forward. "Didn't they forget about the inspection?"  
"Why should they inspect us, Crichton?" tossed in Nireese with a sly grin, "According to their computer records, we've already been here the allotted twelve solar days and have been cleared by inspection to proceed."  
"You have people inside," said Aeryn from the helm post as she put it all together. "They frelled the station logs to show we've already gone through inspection."  
Nireese nodded. "As far as they know, this bay has been occupied by this ship for the last twelve days."  
"How did you manage it?" asked Andar with interest.  
The female Shrike turned her attention to the Sebacean man and gave him a warm smile. Malika felt the support-fibers that made up her spine stiffen in ire and she narrowed her green eyes at the woman. She knew the Nebari was doing it on purpose but it still grised her off. Chiana saw the look in the Delvian's eyes and wondered if Nireese knew how close she was coming to getting on Malika's last nerve.   
"Yeah, how did you pull that off?" the gray girl asked the Shrike, attempting to discreetly defuse the situation.  
Nireese glanced back at the other Nebari woman.  
"There are literally thousands of inspection bays at this station," she explained. "As you suspected, the Clan has operatives inside. They simply fed this trader ship's specs into the mainframe computers and during the twelve days logged phantom inspection reports for the craft. Several Clan agents playing the part of its crew rented quarters, spent credits, and made public appearances occasionally throughout the station.   
Even if someone came across the empty bay they wouldn't give it a second thought - as there are so many of them it's impossible for anyone to know exactly which are being used and which are waiting for arrivals at any given time. Station control only as that information and other then departures and arrivals, they rarely bother with checking them as that duty belongs to the inspection teams."  
"So the shear size of this base worked in our favor," put in the Luxan.  
"Yes," affirmed Nireese.  
"Well, once again the bureaucratic dren covers our eemas and lets us slip through the cracks," tossed in John. "It's a good thing Sparky stayed on Moya. Imagine the bitching we'd be having to listen to now once he realized he might have missed a chance to gamble on the Inspection Station."  
"I'd rather not," Sean agreed with a dramatic roll of his eyes.  
"Rygel may have been a bit unbearable if he were here," confirmed Zhaan with a serene smile.   
The trader vessel sailed away from the Scarran station. When it was safe, Aeryn brought the engine slowly up to power again.  
"Course for Sa'van-nah laid in," she announced to the group around her helm position.  
John struck a strange pose just then. "Then engage warp-drive, Mr. Sulu," he said.  
Sean snickered while Aeryn turned to him with an odd look creasing her pretty brow.  
"I understand the inaccurate reference to 'warp-drive', but what is a 'Mistter Zulu'?" she asked. "Is that some Erp military term?"  
The rest of the shipmates stood dumfounded as Sean burst out in laughter and John faltered around trying to come up with an understandable explanation.  
"Never mind," he finally told her, "I'll explain later... just get us to Scarran Disneyland."  
"I can hardly wait," Aeryn replied half-sarcastically, and then engaged the hetch-drive.  
  
Lark shivered as she lay on the room's sole sleeping platform. The Nebari girl reached down and yanked the blanket up to cover herself better against the night chill. She rolled over to face the middle of the room again attempting to find a more comfortable position. She did her best to try and sleep but the recent knowledge that her body contained a sickness, given to her by her own people, repeatedly ate away at her thoughts. It didn't help matters that her capture sat cross-legged on the other side of the room, his back leaning up against the doorway. The man who called himself Sinn sat with his eyes closed, breathing shallowly - but she knew that somehow that man was aware of everything that took place inside the room.  
Sinn scared her like no other being had done before. She'd been beaten and far worse by clients and her purveyors countless times in the span she'd been away from Nebari Prime. But this man somehow didn't seem right...even far beyond his strange eyes that changed their color and the unnatural speed and way he moved. She had absolutely no doubt that he would kill her as he'd threatened and at the same moment she believed he would also keep his word about setting her free with the information for a cure after she had helped him as he demanded.   
He was a creature of contradictions... and that is what made him so dangerous in her estimate.  
She hadn't realized she'd been staring at Sinn until his head moved slightly, his closed eyes turning in her direction to meet hers but not opening. She shuttered once again and wondered if he were even a humanoid as he appeared or an alien in disguise. Lark distracted herself for the moment by kicking the blanket down further to cover her bare feet. Looking back over, she saw that Sinn still had his unopened eyes facing her direction. Even closed, she had the feeling he was looking at her.   
On the floor next to the platform, the bound creature there let out a moan and his fur covered feet tried to kick in their restraints as if he were trying to run away from something inside a bad dream.   
Sinn's eyes finally opened a crack at the tiny disturbance, the cold blue orbs regarding the two beings across from him impassively.  
"You're going to kill him if you keep drugging him," Lark was surprised to find herself saying out loud.  
Sinn had injected the rodent-like creature with something before she lay down to try and sleep.  
The man across the room gave her no indication that he'd heard her comment, or that he even cared. Instead his eyes leisurely opened all the way and settled on her in their full soulless intensity.   
The Nebari clutched the blanket tighter around her body and had an impulsive flash of dread that the man was thinking about harming her in some way - the thought of rape speared through her mind sharper than Mekklah's knife had been. The thought of rape shouldn't be that much of a threat to someone in her profession; it was one of the accepted hazards of the trade. She also reminded herself that she was in the position she was in now because she had intended to frell the man for money to begin with. Originally, Lark thought the business arrangement might be one of her more enjoyable encounters, as she'd actually found him quite attractive for a Sebacean when she first saw him at the Inn. But now she found she couldn't bear the thought of Sinn touching her. She relaxed an instant later as she remembered about the Contagion. Surely Sinn wouldn't be insane enough to infect himself by having sex with her?  
  
Sinn simply sat there and regarded her without saying a word. It finally dawned on her that the man was lost somewhere inside himself deep in thought... or past memories.  
Her curiosity peaked, she openly watched the man, making her attention obvious. Sinn's eyes became glassy and unseeing the longer he seemed to wander in thought. She found herself wondering for the millionth time why he was doing what he was doing to them all.   
Why try and risk everything to kill a Syndicate leader?   
After few moments of watching she thought she saw his lips move in a whisper to himself.   
"Chiana," she thought she heard him say though she couldn't be exactly positive. Whatever it was, it turned his cold eyes sad for an unguarded instant.  
"What happened to you to make you hate so much?" she said without thinking.  
Sinn's eyes iced over again in a heartbeat. Suddenly he was aware of her again.  
"They took everything," he hissed, his normal toneless voice filling with heat and razor sharpness.  
His eyes burned for a microt with fury. "Everything..." he added again, just as quickly the calm facade fell over his features. He held her gaze for a few microts more and then closed his eyes once again, seemingly like he was dismissing her from further thought.  
Lark knew she had witness something Sinn hadn't wanted her to see. A weakness she could perhaps exploit somehow? She rolled over onto her back to gaze at the room's ceiling and pondered her new observation.  
There might be a way to use this to get the cure information she needed and get away. She was sure of one thing now. Sinn was even more insane than she had first suspected.  
Sa'van-nah was only a few arns travel from the Scarran boarder and the Inspection Station. The Simterrian trader vessel made orbit without encountering any Scarran patrol ships and was soon parked on a landing pad at the capital's largest commerce port. The huge craft was fine traveling in the vacuum of space but handled roughly in the thicker environment of a planet's atmosphere. Luckily, Aeryn was a skilled pilot but she still needed John's assistance as co-pilot to guide the bulky vessel through the air turbulence that John and Sean called "chop".  
As soon as they touched down, they were met by a Boolite who Nireese had briefed them was playing the part of the trader ship's owner. The half-Nebari went on to explain that the Boolite was another Clan agent sent on ahead to prepare their cover story and to handle all contact with the port's authorities.  
With the Clan agent was also several official looking natives who appeared to be an distant cousins of the Kalish race that served the Scarrans.  
"Another frelling Shrike," Malika murmured lowly as the Boolite and the officials made their way up the lowered loading ramp into the Trader's cargo hold. Nireese in her well-worn looking merchantman garb bowed respectfully to the Boolite, greeting him as if he was her employer. The Boolite nonchalantly dismissed the Nebari with a casual wave of his hand and totally ignored the rest of the crew as the port officials spread throughout the cargo bay and began to inspect the freight.  
The humanoid male in charge looked over a few crates while the Boolite keep up a running conversation with him that the man answered mostly with non-committal grunts. The Port Master eventually made it over to the wall of the cargo bay and began tapping each bulkhead panel until he reached one that rang hollow. The Boolite gave him a sheepish smile when the man glanced at him. Expertly, he popped the hidden panel and peeked inside to see the bootleg cases of wine. Turning back to the Boolite, the being discreetly slid a folded envelope into the Port Master's hands. The enveloped disappeared just as discreetly as it had been passed.  
John looked around the bay and saw that the other inspectors were pointedly ignoring the activity going on near the hidden compartments, and he gave a slight shake of his head. Some things never change no matter where you are, he thought to himself. There was always someone crooked in the game... lucky for them.  
  
As soon as the exchange was made, the Port Master called his men together from their tasks and exited the Trader craft along with the Boolite, who was still making small talk with the headman.  
"Well, that was easy," commented Nireese when they were alone again.  
The group wandered down the loading ramp to get their first look at the port and the planet around them.  
"What a dump!" Sean declared as he shielded his eyes from the sun's glare and surveyed the area.  
"I've seen worse, kid," replied the older Crichton.  
"Where?" challenged his relative.  
Aeryn squinted and looked around. "If you think this is bad... you should see the Sheyang homeworld," she said.  
"I think I'll pass," rumbled D'argo from behind them.  
Nireese pushed through them closely followed by Chiana.  
"I told you that no one wants this planet," the First Shrike reiterated. "And you can see why it's only a jump off point. However, this is only the spaceport and the main commerce section. The rest of the city and outlaying areas are not this bad."  
"I should hope not," added Andar.  
Zhaan turned her face toward the sky and smiled. "Oh, I don't know. The sunlight here on this world is pleasant." The priestess looked over at Malika with a meaningful smile but the younger Delvian only frowned in return. Andar looked at her with sudden interest, but Malika froze him with a warning glare before he could ask an embarrassing question.  
Full of nervous energy, Chiana took a step away from the group.  
"Com' on," she urged over one shoulder. "Let's stop wasting time and go find Berret."  
"Wait!" Nireese stopped her before she could take another step.  
"For what?" Chiana responded with an impatient look.  
"We cannot just go rushing off in search of Berret," the half Nebari Shrike continued. "You're forgetting that this city is now full of Syndicate Houses. Berret himself is undoubtedly keeping a very low profile until he intends to strike - we must do the same and be just as discreet in our activities."  
Sean snorted. "Right! Berret's about as low profile as Rygel at a free lunch," he quipped.  
Chiana's eyes narrowed in thought, and she held up one hand before Sean could get too involved with his antics.  
"No! No, 'Reese is right," the gray girl announced with conviction. "That's exactly what Berret will do. He'll find somewhere where he can watch Arckatius and his people if he's found them. He'll watch and look for a weakness in their defenses. Look for a way in - that's what I would do."  
Aeryn agreed, "He'll be planning his attack in a military way."  
Chiana nodded vigorously. "Yeah... only he won't care about planning a way out."  
"A Kamikaze attack? Are you sure, Pip?" asked John. "You know him best."  
Chiana had heard both Crichtons use the Earth term before and knew its meaning.  
"I'm sure of it, Crichton," she affirmed. "Berret will die to get that Scarran."  
"I agree," added Zhaan. "That will be all he cares about."  
Andar clicked his tongue in thought. "It appears our objective has gotten somewhat a little more complicated then we originally thought," he concluded.  
"Isn't it always?" grumbled the Luxan. "Now we must make sure the fool has a way out opened to him besides cleaning up any evidence he leaves behind."  
"And make sure the 'right' evidence IS left behind if we want the Syndicate to blame each other," John finished for D'argo.  
Nireese looked from one crewmate to the other.  
"Nothing has change, we can still do this and succeed," she told them with a positive lit in her voice.  
"So what do we do now?" asked Chiana.  
Nireese settled down to sit on the loading ramp. "We wait," she answered.  
"For what?" inquired Aeryn, wishing for the hundredth time that the female Shrike would simply explain her statements instead of always making them ask for details.  
"Another Clan agent is here already looking for Berret," she filled in, "If he has been found, we should be getting a report and the information shortly."  
"Okay... we wait," said John with a shrug.  
Malika looked disgusted. "Frell!" she muttered as she spun away from the rest of the group and marched back up the loading ramp into the Cargo vessel. "Another Goddess-damned Shrike..."  
  
Nireese closed her eyes and tilted her face up to the sky. The Pa'u had been right, the sun felt very good on her skin after so long aboard one space vessel or another. The others had returned to the ship for a quick meal while they waited, leaving the First Shrike alone with her thoughts as she sat waiting on the loading ramp for her contact to show. She was reminiscing about her homeworld and the summer days she spent there in her youth with her younger brother, trying to ignore the occasion twang of pain when she recalled that her world and her sibling no longer existed - thanks to the Scarrans.  
A light footstep on the ramp saved her from falling further into a funk of depressing memories.  
"Hello, Sean Crichton," she called without opening her eyes, "Did you have enough to eat?"  
A light chuckle answered her question and a weight settled down next to her. She opened her eyes to find the younger Crichton besides her, carefully shredding a food cube wrapper idly in his hands.  
"Wasn't very hungry," the human replied. "Besides, Malika's in another of her moods."  
"Yes, she does seem to have them."  
Sean stole a glance at the half-Nebari out of the corner of his eye. "You don't seem to go to far out of your way to help matters much in that department," Sean observed.  
Nireese smiled slightly and gave him a very human shrug in response.  
Sean nodded his own silent reply. They sat quietly for a moment more before the human picked up the conversation once again.  
"A few microns ago, you struck me as somebody who was feeling a little homesick," he announced.  
The half-Nebari allowed a small grin to grace her face. "You're very perceptive," she told him.  
Sean snorted once in amusement. "Not really," he confessed. "I've had that same look once or twice myself. So have John and the others... except for Berret. You kind of get use to seeing it around on Moya sometimes."  
"It must be hard to be so far away from your home," Nireese said.  
"It has to be worse knowing your home doesn't exist anymore. I don't know which is worse."  
The female Shrike glanced over at the man. "You have a point... I can't decide which is worse either."  
Sean met the woman's gaze.  
"Can I ask you a question?"  
"Why not?" Nireese answered with a casual nod.  
Crichton turned his gaze back to the balled-up and shredded food wrapper in his hand and began to pull it apart again.   
"Will you really blow yourself up to get the Syndicate if you have too?" he wanted to know.  
"Yes," answered Nireese without a microts hesitation.  
"Is it because you've lost your home and maybe sometimes think you can't go on because of it?"  
Nireese paused a moment giving the unexpected question some thought.   
"No," she finally said a few microts later.  
Sean leaned his back up against a ramp strut. "Good," was all he said in reply. He pitched the abused food cube wrapper off to one side of the loading ramp onto the ground and placed both hands in his lap. To his surprise, a few microts later Nireese snaked a hand over to clasp one of his. Sean looked up to find Nireese looking at him with a kind knowing smile.  
"There is always hope for a new home," she told him.  
"I guess you're right."  
They sat silently for several more microns holding hands, each lost in their own thoughts and somehow knowing they were the same to each. A horn sounded in the shipyard and the half-Nebari checked her chron.  
"Noon arn," she announced. "Our contact will be busy now with another task at this time and won't be able to get to the port for another arn now if he's found Berret."  
"Looks like we wait some more," answered the human. "Can I ask you another question?"  
"Go right ahead."  
Sean scooted around to better face her.  
"I have to know... how did you know it was me when I came down the ramp without opening your eyes?" he asked. "You always seem to know who's behind you without looking." He chuckled shortly and then continued, "Its creeping John out and to tell you the truth, it's a little un-nerving for me too."  
Nireese threw her head back and let loose with a delighted laugh. She tugged lightly on the man's hand to let him know she wasn't being cruel with her mirth.  
"Its really very simple, Sean Crichton," she answered, "But you'll probably be offended if I told you."  
"No... really. Tell me."  
"Well..." she began, "I'm not saying anything bad... but it's that scent you're wearing."  
"Scent?" asked Sean, "You mean... my aftershave?"  
Nireese smiled. "I do not know what it's called."  
"Zhaan makes it for John and me," Sean explained. "Men on my world use it after shaving to sooth razor burn... and to smell good."  
"I see," said Nireese with another smile.  
"I knew you guys had sensitive noses, but I didn't know you found it bad smelling. I can barely smell it myself and Zhaan assured me that it was a pleasant smell."  
"Scent does play an important part for Nebari but you misunderstand my explanation," the female Shrike went on, "I like the scent very much."  
"Oh?" said a stunned Sean. "Well, Zhaan mixed this up and got it close to a small sample of aftershave I had with me from Earth. You can imagine that you'd need it after being cramped up in the cockpit of a module for a while on a mission. I sometimes wear it when I get homesick myself," he confessed.  
"I understand," replied Nireese. The half-Nebari suddenly stood up and offered him her hand. "Come on," she said.  
"Where are we going?" Sean asked as he automatically took her hand and started to rise to his feet.  
"To my quarters," she answered. The human's eyes opened wide in surprise. Nireese smiled fondly at him. "For awhile we can keep each other company... and for awhile, neither one of us might feel homesick."  
Together they walked up the ramp and into the ship. 


	12. Chapter 11

Chiana crammed the last of her possessions into her travel bag and turned to glance up at the tall man on the other side of the room.  
"You always seem to leave with more things then you arrive with," she said with a smile.  
Berret regarded her with a quick fleeting look from the opposite side of the bed. "It would help if you didn't snurch so many things," he commented and then went back to packing his own bag.  
The Nebari gave him a look of feigned insult.  
"I paid for some things," she insisted.  
"Only as a last resort," the ex-assassin threw in absently. Berret's lips made an attempt to turn upwards into a small grin, but the effect was less then successful. Still, it was at least a hint of humor... something the man seemed to be lacking the last few solar days for some reason.  
Chiana chuckled, not fooled for a moment that the Shrike's jab was natural. At least he was trying to be in a better mood she thought to herself. "At least I'm not as bad as Rygel," she shot back, trying to keep the light banter going.  
"Thank the Goddess," Berret said drolly. "Can you image the trouble he is having pack..."  
The Shrike's sentence trailed off as he suddenly whirled toward the room's door while drawing his pulse pistol. Ever attuned for danger, Chiana followed the man's example without question, her own weapon leveling at the doorway a spit microt behind Berret's.  
The young man who worked for the Inn they were staying at, yelp when he opened the door and saw the guns pointed at him.  
"I-I-I'm sorry..." he stuttered. "I was called up here to help carry your luggage down to the lobby. I-I'll wait out in the hallway until you're ready to leave."  
The boy withdrew from the room as fast as he was able and closed the door behind him. The couple lowered their pistols and Chiana turned to regard the Shrike with a hint of harried amusement.  
"A little jumpy, are we?" she asked with a tilt of her head.  
"Sorry, habit," explained Berret as he holstered his weapon.  
Chiana slipped her own pistol into her belt behind her back. "Now you got me doing it," she remarked. She then turned to look back at the door. "I think he drenned his pants," she concluded with a mischievous smile.  
Berret sighed. "Probably," he agreed, "I suppose we should make up for it by remembering to leave him a generous tip before we leave."  
Chiana sashayed around the bed and waggled one forefinger at the man as she passed.  
"Uh-ah," she cooed. "Not we... you. You did it, you pay,"  
Berret responded by chuckling lightly and Chiana responded with a smiled. He really hadn't expected the Nebari to part with any of her extra credits. Berret then made an exaggerated show of sighing heavily.  
"As you say," he said as if also reluctant to part with any of his own credits.  
"I'm so glad you agree," she said and then leaned in to kiss the man on the lips.  
  
She was just beginning to enjoy the soft pressure of Berret's lips against hers when out of nowhere, someone called her name. A jolt to her shoulder followed and she snapped her eyes open.  
"Chiana? Are you awake?" asked Zhaan from beside her.  
The Nebari rubbed at her eyes with the palm of one hand as she forced herself up into a sitting position on the padded bench she had fallen asleep on.  
"Yeah... Zhaan. What is it?" she asked groggily as she scanned the Trader ship's mess area that also serviced the crew as a living space. The chamber was empty beside her and the Delvian priestess.  
"D'argo just commed. Nireese's contact has arrived," Zhaan informed her, "We are all to met in the cargo hold."  
"Okay, I'm up," Chiana replied and then swing to her feet.  
The left the mess and moved down the Cargo vessel's corridors, which where much narrower then Moya's.  
At a junction in the small quarters section of the craft, a doorway cycled open just as they passed. Nireese and Sean stepped out without looking and almost collided with the two females.  
"Whoa!" exclaimed Sean in surprise, and then slightly turned away to finish adjusting his clothing.  
"Well," said Chiana bluntly, "We know what you two were up too."  
Nireese just grinned. Zhaan weaved her way through the jam of bodies. "Not now, Chiana. We have to get to the hold," said the Delvian. She glanced at the half-Nebari woman and continued, "You received the call about your contact?"  
"Yes, we were on our way down to the cargo hold," the First Shrike answered.  
The Shrike fell into step with Zhaan, leaving Chiana to follow along behind with Sean.  
The Nebari girl gave the human a cock-eyed grin.  
"So?" she asked in a mischievous low voice.  
"So what?" replied Sean.  
Chiana elbowed him in the side and winked. "You know... did ya have fun?"  
Sean halted and gave her a look of disbelief.   
"I don't believe you! Isn't anything private around here?"  
"Well, yeah... but this is more fun," replied the gray waif, "Well... did you?"  
"Chiana," Sean said, "I don't kiss and tell."  
"Why not?"  
The human exhaled heavily. "I just don't. Do I ask you about you and Berret?"  
"No," answered Chiana.  
"There, you see?" said Sean, with a slight look of self-satisfaction at making his case.  
"What do you want to know?"  
The younger Crichton's eyes flew open wider.  
"Nothing!" he exclaimed in shock.  
"You're no fun," Chiana told him.  
Sean sputtered, "Look... some humans aren't comfortable talking about private matters.... and I'm one of them."  
Chiana cocked her head to one side and regarded the man for a moment.  
"Okay, Crichton. I understand," she said a few microts later.  
"Thank you," Sean said to her, as Chiana began to walk after Zhaan and the First Shrike.  
"That's okay," she responded over one shoulder. "Nireese will tell me later on anyway."  
Sean's face dropped at the gray girl's parting casual remark. He slowly turned his gaze upward to the ceiling of the hallway.  
"Why me, Lord?" he beseeched, holding up helpless hands.  
  
The crew assembled in the trader ship's cargo hold. Sean followed behind Chiana and gave the Nebari a half-hearted frown as he walked passed her. He reached around to his back pocket and removed his "rumbling gloves." He called then that because they were something more then just a plain looking pair of black leather gloves. As he slipped them on over his hands, he felt the tiny circuits and minute metal contacts that laced throughout the leather. He synched the straps tight around his wrists, feeling the powerful Talykicum batteries sewn into the wristbands. Andar had his Lore-rope as a hideout weapon and he had these. Once he held his hand in any number of certain ways, such as like in a fist, the right combination of contacts would close and if he were touching someone or something, a powerful shock would be delivered. The batteries held a strong enough charge to sent even a fully armored Berret sailing across the room.   
He had thought up the weapon and Andar had helped him design the circuits and find the materials to construct them. After much trail and error they finally perfected the device. Andar took the concept one step further and added the ability to adjust the electric discharge for covertly disabling electronic devices.  
Depending on what the desired effect Sean wanted, he could cause a computer to seemingly develop a glitch with just a wave of his hand near the device... or fry it to hezmana and back again.  
He caught Chiana watching him as he donned his gloves in case there was trouble with Nireese's contact.  
The young human forgot his exasperation with the Nebari girl from the moment as he saw her face fall a little into depression. It seemed the smallest thing reminded her of Berret... which his gloves did. Seeing that Berret volunteered to help test the glove's effectiveness out, something that at the time caused Chiana no end of apprehension as he allowed himself to be used as a guinea pig.  
She looked up and saw that Sean had noticed her funk. The girl attempted to give him a weak smile to show that everything was all right. Sean knew better, but the only thing he could do at the moment was return her smile with a weak one of his own. Suddenly he felt a little guilty over the short time of happiness he'd found in Nireese's arms after being reminded of Chiana's dispair.  
  
Chiana realized that Sean had caught her feeling depressed again after his gloves reminder her about Berret. The human returned the sad smile to let her know he was feeling for her and she instantly felt bad for ruining his moment of happiness that he found with Nireese. Sean was a good man, just like John, and she like Nireese immensely. She was glad to realize that the two had gotten together, even if she used the occasion to tease the younger Crichton.   
Still she couldn't help but be reminded of the Shrike. She'd given Berret such a hard time over letting himself be shocked over and over again by Sean and Andar. Even though in the end she had to admit, the stun gloves were a good idea. With the bugs worked out, all Andar had to do was finish finding enough components to make several more pairs of the gloves for everybody. She just hated seeing her friend go through all of the pain he did. Though he never complained and seemed interested in helping, she couldn't help feel that Berret was being taken advantage of. She felt she needed to protect the Shrike even from their crewmates. In retrospect, it seems kind of foolish now. Here they all were, risking their necks to get Berret back. It made her eyes misty to be reminded that she had such good friends like these... that she had this family she found. It was just now... she wished a little electric current was the only thing she had to worry about Berret over. Now that memory seemed like one of the better times.  
  
Sean planted his feet and torqued his body, than unleashed a backfist that grazed Berret's jaw as he barely stepped backward in time. The young astronaut was just silently congratulating himself on catching the big Shrike off guard when the other man shook off the almost dead-on backhand blow and smiled in pretend deadly glee. The look seemed so calculated, that for a split-microt Sean wonder if the ex-assassin had set him up.  
Before he could retract his outstretched arm, Berret caught the limb and viciously yanked the full human toward him. Sean felt both his feet leave their purchase on the training mat as the Shrike step slightly off-line, fully intending to fling the younger Crichton into the padded wall of the gym behind them.  
Instead of trying to arrest his forward momentum, at the last microt Sean surge with the force of Berret's pull and literally ran up the wall as the Shrike let go of him. Reaching the peak of his forward rise, Sean pushed hard against bulkhead with both legs and threw himself into a back flip that sent him almost over Berret's head to land back in the middle of the training mats. He wasn't his high school's gymnastics champion three years running for nothing.  
Sean bounced back to his feet into a fighting stance ready to face the ex-assassin once again, only to realize that Berret was no longer where he last saw him. The Earthman knew what was coming next; the Shrike had caught him several times with the same tactic before. Without pausing to think about it further, Sean sprung upwards and threw himself into a high forward shoulder roll. He was rewarded for his fast reaction as he managed to glimpse Berret's body barrel roll under him as he soared safely over the top of his opponent. The tall man had thrown himself to the mat while Sean was regaining his balance from the back flip and was attempting to bowl him over like a ten-pin.  
Both men rocketed back to their feet virtually at the same moment.   
Berret faced Sean with a grim smile of approval at the other man remembering to watch both high and low for an attack. Idly the ex-Enforcer thought he would have to come up with a new trick to catch the man off guard with. It was a good thing Aeryn insisted that the crew cross-train with each other to keep their skills sharp and always developing. Berret shuffled in and feigned a front wheel-kick at Sean, the Shrike Enforcer armor he was wearing not slowing his speed in the slightest. At the last microt he aborted the kick and set his foot back down and instead sent a straight punch at the other man's head. Sean wasn't taken in by so obvious an assault by a man he knew to be devious and who favored using tactics that involved a lot of misdirection. He waited a split microt for the Shrike to replant his kicking foot and then dropped to a kneeling position, effectively ducking the straight punch. His own black-gloved fist shot in to impact against the overlapping metal plates covering the ex-assassin's abdomen. As he made contact with the armor, Sean pressed the contact sewn into the thumb of his glove against another sewn into the glove alongside his pointer finger.  
There was a bright arch and a smell of ozone, and then Berret was flung backwards against the same wall that moments ago he had tried to run Sean into.  
Chiana got up from where she was crouched down off the mat watching the bout and hurried over to the fallen Shrike. Andar came out onto the mats with her and walked over to Sean.  
"Not even a tingle that time," announced the Human as the Sebacean man joined him. "I guess we finally got the right insulator for the circuit."   
Andar inspected the gloves, being sure to be careful of the one that was still fully charged.  
"Looks that way," said the ex-teacher in agreement. "I wasn't sure about your idea at first, but after I gave it some thought I could see where we might be able to use this as a inconspicuous defensive weapon. It was just a matter of finding the right materials to construct it from so you didn't end up electrocuting yourself along with your attacker."   
"Tell me about it," Sean said with a toothy grin. During several tests of his prototype stun-gloves, the man had been shocked almost as badly as his target.  
  
Berret blinked as the electric jolt wore off. Chiana stood over him with some slight concern in her dark eyes.  
"Are you okay?" she asked, "Or did you manage to half kill yourself this time?"  
"I'm very much... still alive," he replied. He started to rise from the floor with a groan. "Unfortunately. I feel as if I'd been hit by one of Moya's Transport Pods."  
Chiana moved to put one shoulder under him for support. "Serves you right. Using yourself as a lab animal for our two mad scientists over there," she admonished.  
"Someone has to do it," replied the Shrike. He straightened up and rubbed at a sore spot low on his back, he realized he wasn't accomplishing much through his armor back plate so he settled for trying to stretch the complaining muscle group. "Next time however, I think you can volunteer to be the "Kenny Pig" as Crichton calls it."  
Chiana arched an eyebrow as if to say, "don't hold your breath." She shook her head making her wild snow-white bangs fall in front of her dark eyes as she said,  
"No thanks... and I think the slang term he used was "Gaa'nana Pig."  
Berret paused to look at her. "That's ridiculous," he said. "I've never heard of a 'Gaa'nana Pig."  
Chiana grinned back at him. "Well, I've never heard of a 'Kenny Pig.' You just don't like to admit when you're wrong," she teased.  
"That is because I am rarely wrong," replied Berret straight faced.  
Chiana's eyebrow arched higher in doubt. "I'll remind you of that tonight when you're asking me to rub your sore spots," she told him.  
"I have never asked you to rub anything," said the Shrike.  
"That's because I take pity on you and do it without asking," Chiana shot back. "Its not my fault that you do such farble headed things."  
Berret paused a moment and regarded the Nebari girl, who tilted her head as if to challenge him to refute her statement. This banter was a game she liked with the tall man.  
"Name one instance where I behaved in a farble headed manner," demanded the ex-assassin.  
"Beside now?" asked Chiana, tapping one finger against the tip of her pug nose. "Humm... lets see. There was the Command Carrier incident... that was classic Berret farble headedness."  
Berret screwed his face up. "That was necessary... unlike your art theft caper where you became lost in the sewer system.  
"That was frog-face's fault!" Chiana said defensively. "He bought the wrong plans off that guy he knew."  
The ex-Enforcer cocked his own eyebrow in triumph. "It took us four solar days to find the two of you."  
"You fell in that waste treatment bin!" the Nebari countered while poking him in the breastplate.  
"Looking for you!" Berret shot back.  
"I wasn't in there," countered the girl.  
"No, dren?" Berret asked sarcastically.  
Chiana suddenly got a strained look on her face. Her lower lip started to quiver and a snicker finally escaped from between her lips. Giving up on all pretenses of trying to keep a straight face she let the laughter come. As soon as he said it, Berret realized how his comment sounded and fit into the topic.  
Despite his vain attempts to remain solemn... he was starting to lose his battle with laughter too.  
  
"It was so good to hear him laugh," Chiana murmured to herself out loud.  
"What was that, dear?" asked Zhaan from beside her.  
Chiana snapped out of her thoughts, she hadn't realized she wandered for a few microts.  
"Nothing, Zhaan. I was just thinking out loud," she replied to the Delvian.  
"Oh," Zhaan said, accepting the answer but knowing it was something more.  
Both women turned their attention back to the meeting with the Clan agent.  
Nireese's contact had met the half-Nebari First Shrike on the cargo vessel's ramp. The being wore robes that concealed head and body. None of the crewmates could tell what species the agent belong too under the shapeless garb. The conversation lasted a mere few microns and then the visitor turned and hurriedly left the ship. Nireese paused a few microts with a deep look of contemplation on her lovely face. She idly scratched at the back of her neck as she walked back up the ramp to join the others.  
"Well, he's not making this easy," was the first thing she said.  
"Did they find him?" Chiana asked with bated breath.  
Nireese nodded. "Yes, they did manage to finally locate him... which wasn't the hard part because all they had to do was stake out Arckatius and let Berret come to them."  
"So where is he?" inquired D'argo.  
"East of here in the more high priced rental sector where the Scarran is of course," answered the female Shrike. "He had staked out a number of Lower House housing rentals, using the couriers to led him to other Houses until he found Arckatius. He's used several disguises to move about and we've backtracked the rooms that he occupied until we located where he'd hidden the Wraith. At this time he has a room located nearby the chalet were Arckatius is staying. Unfortunately he's also been a very busy boy in the last solar day."  
"By your tone, I'd say that's not a good thing," John said.  
"What exactly do you mean by 'he's been busy'?" asked Aeryn.  
"It looks like he might... have taken prisoners," Nireese filled in.  
Sean screwed up his face in befuddlement. "Prisoners?" he repeated.  
"Yes, one of the Inn's floor supervisors," the half-Nebari explained, " and a Nebari prostitute." She announced the last with an intrigued upraised eyebrow.  
"He got himself... a hooker?" John exclaimed incredibly.  
Andar looked just as dumbfounded. "Well that was... unforeseen," he said to the group in general.  
"A tralk?" Chiana snapped in disbelief.  
Malika turned away and slapped a hand against her forehead. "Oh, that's just so lovely," she griped, "One wasn't enough for him. He had to traipses across Scarran space to get another and like idiot's we go after him."  
"You said... a tralk?" repeated Chiana persistently, ignoring what everyone else was saying.   
"Please wait..." Zhaan started to entreaty to the others.  
"I am very grised..." interrupted Aeryn.  
Sean held up a finger to make a point. " Why take a call girl prisoner? Isn't it easier to just pay?" he asked over the top of the rest of the group.  
"Man o' man!" John said, "... a hooker?"  
"If we all just could..." Zhaan tried again but no one was listening.  
D'argo half snarled, "If this is the only reason..."  
"A TRALK!" exclaimed Chiana once more.  
"Goddess just take me now," Malika said to the heavens.  
A shrill whistle made everyone flinch and a few start to cover their ears. The piercing sound ended as suddenly as it started. They all as one turned to look at Nireese, the source of the trill noise.  
"Are you all done?" she asked sarcastically to the group, "Can I finish my explanation now?"  
  
The sun was hot, beating down on his long dark hair. An ocean's roar caught his attention and he followed the sound with a turn of his head to find the crashing waves not too far from him.  
He was on a beach.  
That should have struck him as odd as he normally didn't favor warm climates. Almost like a Sebacean he preferred cooler temperatures. But for some reason the scene seemed natural and unthreatening to him. Unconcerned, he glanced down and found himself dressed in the Peacekeeper issue clothing that he usually wore aboard Moya when not in Shrike armor. The PK combat boots crunched loudly in the white sand of the beach and he idly wondered why the leather pants didn't feel hotter than they did under the bright sun.  
He dismissed the thought and found a pair of the dark glass occulars that the Crichtons referred too as "Shades" hanging from the neck of his black military issue under shirt. He slipped them on and found they cut the glare very satisfactorily. His finger's automatically brushed at his right thigh, feeling something amiss he looked down and discovered the absence of his pulse pistol and it's holster. Strangely the missing weapon didn't alarm him. It didn't seem relevant to this peaceful setting.  
  
He chose a direction and wander down the beach, coming within a few drec of the surf line. There were other beings in swimming and beach attire scattered around enjoying the sand, sun, and water. None of them paid any attention to the over-dressed man as he wandered up the beach.  
He'd traveled all for a few microns when a figure a little ways up the sand from him caught his attention.  
As he drew closer, the gray skin and the figure told him it was a Nebari female. Coming even closer he confirmed what he already had somehow known - it was Chiana.  
The girl lay spread out on a large beach towel, dressed in brief swim wear and a brightly colored sun wrap laying underneath her ready to be refastened around her slim waist, she was soaking up the sun light. Her hair had turned from the normal snow white to mostly jet-black, leaving just the very ends of her now shoulder length hair the original silver-white. She had once told him that a Nebari's hair would change in color after being exposed to the solar light of a class-three star for a long period of time. That was how you could tell Nebari who lived in the tropical regions of Nebari Prime to the others who lived in the cooler regions. He absentmindedly calculated by the hair growth that Chiana had been living here for at least two cycles now.  
As he approached, she happened to glance up and look in his direction. He then saw a bright smile grace her lovely face and his heart skipped a beat. She quickly tied the wrap around her waist and rose to her bare feet. He was just about to call a greeting when a Nebari male walked passed him, heading straight for the girl. He watched as her gaze followed the gray man and she greeted him happily.  
The smile hadn't been for him.  
The Nebari male had hair as white as Chiana's had once been. He had been here a long time also for it to turn. He wondered if this could be the mysterious Nerri that he'd heard so much about from Chiana.  
The pair met with a kiss that was anything but brother or sisterly. The light in Chiana's face told him that this was her lover. He watched the Nebari man reach down and take up Chiana's towel. Together they walked away from him down the beach. Hand-in-hand they strolled, occasionally stealing kisses from each other as they went. He had never seen Chiana look so happy.  
Somehow he wasn't surprise to hear the voice behind him.  
"What her life could have been.... If not for you."  
He turned to glance and see whom it was....  
  
... And awoke with a start.  
"Sinn! What's wrong?"  
Berret opened his eyes to find himself also nose to nose with a Nebari face, but not the one he wanted to see. Lark pulled her hand away from his shoulder where she had been shaking him when she realized he was finally awake. She really couldn't bear to touch this man. "You were muttering in your sleep," the gray woman explained as she returned to the bed, putting as much distance between her and the man sitting in front of the door as she could. She had to step over Allppa, who was now also awake and watching the pair over the top of his gag.  
"A dream," Berret thought to himself, "It was just a dream." Somewhere during the night he had nodded off. His subconscious was probably just trying to tell him he felt guilty over what he had done to Chiana. How he had betrayed her the way he did before leaving Moya. It didn't matter now he told himself. Chiana was free of him. He hoped that if she were meant to have a life safe and happy somewhere like in the dream, that now she could have it.  
He wasn't there to interfere with her destiny any longer.  
Now he could meet his destiny as well. All would be put right.  
He rubbed quickly at his face to banish the last ruminates of sleep from his eyes and mind, then glanced at his chron. It was almost time to head back to the metal worker's shop. Today he would put the plan for his vengeance in motion... and Goddess damned them all!  
"Get dressed," he ordered the Nebari girl, his voice gruff from either sleep or dark emotions. "We have work to do." 


	13. Chapter 12 To be continued

Berret and the Nebari woman made the short return trip to the metal worker's shop in relative silence. He had left Alppa still tied-up but undrugged back at his room at Lark's insistence, after extracting a promise from the rodent-like being not to attempt an escape if he didn't administer any more of the sedative to him.

Of course it helped that he'd also left a Tarbik grenade attached to the restraints that bound his hands, and that the Shrike had given the Inn worker the idea that the device would explode should he tamper with the fetters or move about too much. The flashing status light on the grenade seemed to convince the timid small being that the threat was sincere.

Berret doubted that Alppa could tell the difference between the flashing "stand-by" and steady "armed" modes of the explosive ordinance.

The Nebari girl was a different story at the moment. She followed along behind Berret like an automation, not seeming to care what was happening any longer. The dark rings under her eyes told the ex-assassin that the female had spent a rough night getting little in the way of sleep. Her wistful mood gave Berret the impression that she had spent most of the evening considering her position, and she had come to the conclusion that she'd had no other option but to see through whatever her captor had in mind.

Without the knowledge he claimed to possess, she was facing a long lingering death within a few cycles anyway. By helping him with his ludicrous plan, at least she had a slim chance of finding the cure and living… a very slim chance, but it was better than what she faced now.

Moments later they arrived at the metalworker's shop only to find a closed sign on the front door.

Undeterred, Berret rapped on the wooden door insistently. A few microts later the metal-smith himself appeared. He opened the door to admit the pair into the darkened shop while at the same time wiping away sleep from his eyes with one apron sleeve.

"My Lord, you are earlier than I expected," apologized the man.

"Never mind that," countered the Shrike haughtily. "Did you complete the work I ordered?"

The blacksmith stole a glance at Lark, who kept her eyes turned downward at the shop's dusty floor.

"Yes," the man replied turning his gaze back at a stern looking Berret. "Wait one moment and I will fetch your item."

The metal worker turned and left them, making his way into a back workroom. Berret found himself regarding the silent Nebari prostitute. If a being could look broken, Lark did at the moment. The Shrike found something softening for that instant inside him. Suddenly, he found that he was overwhelmed with a dark hatred for himself that almost over-shadowed the detestation he felt for Arckatius and the Syndicate themselves.

Despite everything Chiana and the others had taught him, everything the gray girl had done or given him, here he stood, forcing another free being against her will to risk her life and freedom for his own personal gain and reasons.

He had betrayed all those who took him in, who had called him friend, who had shown him the first kindness and amity he had even known. What he had done here for revenge's sake would disgust and shame them all if they knew. Still the drive for retribution was too hard to set aside.

He was no better than the lowest member of the Black Syndicate.

He deserved to die here with them on this fool's errand.

Berret turned back to the girl with him, his throat suddenly felt thick and dry and he knew he was having a moment of sympathy for the female… a potential moment of fatal weakness if he wasn't careful.

Still he forced himself to speak the only thought of reassurance that came into his mind. The Nebari deserved something to hope for after what he was putting her though.

"By tonight… tomorrow at the latest, this will be over for you," he told her in a low voice.

Lark shuffled her feet a bit but did not look up or acknowledge his words. It appeared that either she didn't believe him or that she could not care less what he promised to her.

"You will be free soon," he added firmly.

This time the Nebari female looked up at him through the white hair that fell over her eyes.

"If you don't get me killed first," she replied also in a low tone.

"You are dying anyway."

Lark's eyes narrowed with unconcealed hatred.

"Bastard!" she hissed. "Just because you paid to frell me, doesn't give you the right to use me this way."

Berret felt the moment of pity fading again. "Yes, I am… and no, it does not," he admitted. "But that fact doesn't change the current situation one bit. However, you can console yourself with the thought that before this is over… you might see me dead."

"I can only hope," the girl added brusquely and then returned her gaze back to the floor, dismissing him from her interest.

The metal smith returned a few microts later with an item wrapped up in an oiled cloth.

"I completed the work a short time ago," he explained, "I think you will be pleased with the results."

He offered the package to Berret and the Shrike accepted it. Unwrapping the cloth, he found the same throwing axe he had purchased the day before.

Berret picked the weapon up by the handle, careful not the touch anywhere else. Holding the axe up the light he inspected the main blade. The only noticeable difference was a slight new discoloration in the edges of the weapon.

"The alloy bonding went extremely well," the blacksmith insured.

Berret gave him a look that said he expected nothing else from the man's work. He next tested the balance of the axe by finding the center point on the haft. The throwing weapon balanced exactly where it should have on the end on an extended finger.

"You did adequate work," the Shrike commented dryly, still playing the role of Syndicate member. All the same, the metal worker beamed slightly knowing this was high praise coming from a highly placed member of the criminal organization that he perceived Berret to be.

"Do you wish to test the blade out?" he asked, pushing a bar of low-grade steel stock out across the counter toward the Shrike. Without comment, Berret hacked downward on the rolled steel bar. The Bat'Rellite main blade of the axe cut neatly through the metal like it was paper. The sudden sound of tortured metal made even the listless Lark jump in place.

The severed end of the bar rolled off the counter as Berret re-examined the edge of the axe.

There wasn't a mark on it. Just perfect for hacking through tough Scarran hide, the ex-assassin thought to himself.

To the blacksmith he said, "It will do."

The metal smith offered him another tight smile and then produced a sheath for the axe.

"I took the liberty of also lining the sheath with Qualta impregnated metal-cloth to protect the blade and user," he said as he passed it over. Berret nodded and accept the cover and slipped it over the head of the axe.

"An excellent idea," the Shrike told him. "You have served me well. I thrust I have no need to remind you that this business is to be kept confidential?"

The other man vigorously nodded his head. "No, not a word to any, my Lord. There isn't even a smithy mark on the axe to identify the maker," he told him, "After you leave here, I've never saw you… either of you, in my life."

"A good and wise man," Berret replied with a cold smile. At the same time he slipped a few more Scarran diamarks across the counter. "Than our business is concluded with satisfaction."

"Yes, Lord," answered the metal worker.

The ex-Enforcer nodded one last time and than turned to the door with his new item tucked under one arm. He offered his free arm to the Nebari woman as he passed.

"Woman, attend me," he commanded.

Meekly, Lark took his arm and fell into step with him.

As soon as they exited the metal shop, the owner slammed the door and locked it. He made sure that the sign in the small window still had its "closed" side turned outward and then retreated into his inner shop.

He had definitely decided that he wouldn't open for business that day… and maybe he would remain closed until all the Syndicate members finished whatever business they had here on the planet and left.

For the moment, he decided he was going to spend the rest of the day drinking and sleeping… which would be much safer. That dark-haired bastard and his Nebari slut smelt like trouble of the nastiest sort… but he didn't care as long as it wasn't trouble for him. That axe was the first work he'd ever produced that he purposely left his craft hallmark off of. Whatever dark deed was to be done with it, he didn't want it traced back to him or his shop.

Drinking sounded like an excellent idea. He'd made enough off that night's work without the final tip to afford to close the shop down for a few days.

And that's just what he would do.

Chiana sat at the bottom of the cargo ship's loading ramp, idly twirling her compact palm pistol around her trigger finger, just as she had seen Sean do with his own pair of Erp pistols from time-to-time.

The sound of footsteps came from the cargo bay and grew louder as they exited out on the top of the ramp above her.

Chiana closed her eyes and leaned her head against one of the ramp struts. Without looking, she could tell whom it was walking down the ramp behind her. The tempo of the step was more than familiar to her, when she had first come aboard Moya she had hoped to hear them approaching the door to her quarters on many a night, but his heart leaned in another direction away from her, so those footfalls never came. The disappointment hadn't lasted long for her, instead of the physical he freely gave her the love of family – which until then she hadn't realized she missed so much. And it was because of him that when someone else needed her help, she was strong enough to reach out and offer it. It was because of him that she had the will to be where she was right now, trying to find that someone she had helped and then lost.

The weight of the steps and cadence of the stride would always give him away to her.

It was John.

The human came down the incline and eventually sat down in a position behind her on the ramp. Chiana remained motionless as he regarded her for the moment in silence. Her attire left her neck and part of her upper back bare, Crichton could plainly see the dark bluish line that ran along the Nebari's spring-like spine. John knew that just like human's got circles under their eyes as a sign of fatigue, Nebari often flushed blue when excited or got bluish stress lines along their faces, backs, neck, and shoulders when anxious or worried. He didn't have to guess as to which condition Chiana was in at the moment.

Without speaking, he reached up and started to massage the gray girl's thin shoulders. The muscles under his hands were like coiled steel clock-springs, poised on the brink of breaking from too much winding.

Still an instant latter, he felt the Nebari notably relax under his attention. Chiana took in a deep breath and let out an audible sigh.

"You always know the right thing to do, old man," Chiana said. John didn't have to see her face, to know that his crewmate at the moment was wearing a tiny grateful smile.

"Well, its not too hard to figure out what you've been going through, little girl," he answered.

The gray woman gave a half-hearted chuckle. Most of the time with John around, she didn't miss Nerri as badly as she use to. She could always talk to him and he seemed to always know what she was feeling most of the time – just like Nerri always use to.

"Anything more you feel like talking about?" he asked her.

Chiana then leaned herself back against him while still looking idly out over the spaceport.

"Nothing that hasn't been already said," she replied with a small shake of her head.

John nodded his own head in agreement with her assessment. He smiled tightly and began to stroke her wild hair gently. The little alien girl had become as close to him as a little sister could be, whenever she hurt, he hurt right along besides her.

"Its always hardest to understand why the person we love the most, does some of the things they do," he offered.

He half expected Chiana to deny being in love with Berret, but at the same time he wasn't too surprised when she only gave a diminutive nod of her head to him in agreement.

"I still don't understand why he didn't come to me with this," she told him next.

John shrugged. "Maybe you were the last one he wanted to know what he was thinking about?" Crichton offered. "Vengeance is a dark and twisted emotion…especially in humans. Maybe he felt like he needed to keep that side of him as far from you as he could? It could be to his way of thinking he was protecting you."

"From what?"

The human shrugged again, making the girl's head bob against his chest like a wave on the water.

"From him. From the parts of himself he still doesn't quite understand. From what he was feeling inside, I guess," John said.

Chiana turned a little so she could look at the man.

"I would do anything to help, Berret… no matter what," she replied.

John offered her a tight smile.

"I know that, Pip. I know," he told her gently. Chiana nodded slightly as if having to confirm her accord again. Crichton thought a moment more and another thought occurred to him. He hugged her tightly and she responded by slipping an arm around him to return the comforting gesture.

"I wonder what happened to that hell-bent-for-leather Nebari thief I met a few cycles ago whose motto was, 'Every gray girl for herself'?" he teased lightly. "I haven't seen her around lately."

Chiana gazed up at him with somber dark eyes.

"I grew up," she told him.

Lark sat in the far corner of the rented single room and tried to pretend she was elsewhere. The small rodent man now sat on the bed looking nervous, and scared to the point of dropping over dead. While seated in a chair across from him, with their knees almost touching was the madman, Sinn.

Sinn grilled Alppa for what seemed to be the hundredth time. Asking him to go over the hand-drawn map of the inn where he worked repeatedly. Demanding that he be doubly sure that he hadn't forgotten any detail no matter how small about the floor plan. He questioned Alppa about all he knew about who was assigned to which room, what security measures were in place, and how easy or difficult was it for employees to move around from place to place inside.

Sinn wanted to know about everything including how deliveries were made and any other thing or task that was involved with the chalet's daily functions. It got to the point were Alppa's head was spinning and he had run out of answers, because he simply did not know anymore than he'd already told the insistent humanoid. He finally broke down and swore on the lives of his parents and littermates that he knew nothing more.

He expected the madman to erupt in another fit of anger and threats as he had on former occasions, but to his surprise, and growing apprehension, Sinn said nothing this time, and only regarded him with those blank cold eyes, as if trying to determine if Alppa were lying to him.

"Very well," the tall man said a moment later, and straightened in his seat, allowing the rodent-like smaller man space to breath.

"That's it?" Alppa asked timidly.

"Yes," replied Sinn neutrally. "I have no further use for you."

Alppa's blood ran suddenly cold at the announcement, believing that Sinn's words heralded his impending death. Across the room, he saw the Nebari tralk drew in a quick breath in alarm; it was obvious she had reached a similar conclusion of her own about the madman's intent.

"You're…you're going to kill me now!" he whined at the other man. "But I did and told you about everything you asked for…"

"Be silent!" Sinn hissed as he rose to his feet. Alppa shrank back from him instinctively, but the wall behind did not allow him to go far.

Lark leaped to her feet and rushed over before she thought better of the idea.

"But you can't…" she started to protest as she neared Sinn.

Sinn turned to met her, then without warning reached forward and grabbed her nearest arm, and drew her in closer. Unseen by the Nebari or Alppa, he had pulled a thin metal rod from somewhere on his person with his free hand, and touched one end of it to the girl's unprotected neck.

Something electrical snapped in the air, and Lark's eyes rolled up into her head before she could complete her sentence. The girl went limp, saved from falling only by Sinn's hold on her upper arm. He steered her around until she was in front of the bed and unceremoniously released her. The gray girl fell flaccidly onto the mattress besides the rodent-man.

Alppa's eyes went large as serving plates at what just happened, as he tried to determine if Sinn had killed the hapless Nebari girl.

"Move," Sinn growled with a thrust of his chin in the direction toward where the girl had been sitting in just a few microts before, to indicate that the smaller man should place himself there as well without a fuss.

The rodent-like man did as he was told, knowing better than, and too afraid to make an escape attempt while the psychotic taller man was busy with the girl. He watched as Sinn produced a set of manacles and ankle cuffs from a travel bag and secured the Nebari with them, so he had to assume the girl was still alive after all. Then Sinn stretched her out on the bed, and using a length of rope tied the restraints themselves to the head and foot of the bed so the girl was immobile. He finished the job by placing a gag over her mouth.

"What are you going to do to her?" Alppa found himself asking.

"Be more concerned with what I'm going to do with you," Sinn warned.

Alppa swallowed hard and let out an involuntary squeak.

He had been afraid something like that would be the answer.

Nireese had just finished off her glass of Kallamaine juice, and was debating on acquiring a refill as she listened to the stories the crewmates were sharing around the table in the mess to kill the time while they waited.

She was in fact reaching for the jug to do just that, when the special comm unit she had clicked its need for attention through the earpiece she wore.

Choosing not to disturb the tale Ka'D'Argo was telling at the moment, she keyed the receiver and listened privately to the report coming in from one of her clan mates. Instead of a standard update, it was the news that they had been waiting for. The First Shrike felt tension drain from her body with the thought that they would finally be doing something constructive soon instead of waiting some more. The girl smiled as the reported ended and the communications channel closed on its own once it was completed.

The rest of her new friends had not noticed that her attention was momentarily elsewhere, that is, all of them were involved in the Luxan's story about a war campaign gone hilariously wrong due to poor intelligence about a arms storage depot, that in fact turned out to be a Sheyang brothel when the Luxans stormed in… all except for one crew member that is.

Malika sat across the table from her, regarding her with cool green eyes, while the Delvian almost absently sipped from her own drink of felip nectar. Everyone at the table was laughing at the various stories, except the Delvian girl. Malika neither joined in with the mirth, nor offered to share a tale of her own. Instead, she just watched the half-Nebari with suspicious intent.

"Excuse me please, D'argo," Nireese announced. The group turned as one to look at her. "Forgive the interruption, but I just received word over my secured comm band that Berret is on the move."

"WHERE?" Chiana demanded as she sat bolt upright in her chair. The others chimed in similar questions, but the full Nebari's had been the loudest and cut over all the rest.

"We'll need to get mobilized," added Aeryn, ever the tactician.

Nireese smiled at the crewmates.

"That's the best part, as we have plenty of time to prepare. It appears he's on the way here!"

Alppa looked around in new fear as Sinn pushed him through the opened access way leading into the commercial passenger arm of the spaceport. He had no idea why the crazy humanoid would take him to such a public and busy place, if he meant to kill him.

"What's going on?" he found the nerve to ask.

Sinn ignored his question, and instead with a vice-like grip on his thin arm, steered him through the crowd of passengers. Leading him up and down several levels until they reached a part of the port that wasn't so busy.

The rodent man looked around and could see only several people and beings sitting around the large open space that was the remote section of the huge terminal. They were all either reading or sleeping in their seats as they waited to be called to board their ships. He shuddered as he realized the lack of witnesses, and he had already noticed that all the trash containers in the port were more than large enough to hide a body as small as his. He also recalled that robotic handlers emptied the containers, and it was unlikely anyone living would find him at all until the trash was dumped somewhere else.

Sinn came to a halt by once such container and turned to look down at him.

Alppa cringed backward, sure the man was about to snap his neck and stuff him into the bin before anyone noticed.

Instead, Sinn held out a plastic chit. "Take it," he ordered.

Obediently, the smaller being took the chit, only to realize it was a boarding authorization on closer inspection.

"I don't understand?" he said with disbelief, but glad he was still breathing, if only for a few microts more.

"Shut up and listen," Sinn snapped tightly. "The ship at this terminal boards in ten microns, be on it." The madman next handed him a leather purse that clinked heavily with what was obviously some form of currency credits. "Forget everything you own here. There are enough credits in that pouch for you to start over wherever you end up. Your best option would be to head out of Scarran space. Do not ever return here."

Alppa blinked his eyes, everything was happening too quickly again. His species was much too fragile to stand this much stress and excitement.

"But… but," he started to say.

Sinn grabbed him by the front of his tunic and shook him hard once.

"I'll be watching," he growled menacingly. "If you are not on that ship when it leaves… I will kill you."

With that said, Sinn released him and without another word turned away. Alppa watched the tall madman walk away, never turning back to look at him to see if Alppa was obeying. The rodent man was sure that Sinn didn't have to look to know, just as he was sure that Sinn would be waiting somewhere nearby to kill him just as he said he would, if he didn't depart on that ship.

Abruptly, he lost track of the taller man as he turned into the slightly busier branch fairway of the port, almost as if he had gradually disappeared into thin air. Alppa was positive that he was still somewhere close at hand – watching! He could feel the madman's gaze upon him still, down to the smallest of his bones!

The small being clutched the money purse and boarding chit tightly to his chest, and went into the lodge area to find a seat. He double-checked the boarding pass with the ship information to be sure he was in the correct place. He certainly was in the right waiting area to his great relief. He would have hated to be killed because he had mistakenly sat in the wrong section. He was too relieved for the moment to even bother checking to see how much currency the insane man had given him. At this point, he just didn't care how much was in the sack dangling from his clenched fist.

There were six other beings beside himself waiting for their flight; most were on the other side of the lodge – which suited him just find. He certainly didn't feel like being social with anyone at the moment.

He took a seat and settled into wait, across the isle from him and two chairs down sat a Sebacean looking male. He involuntarily shuttered in response to the man, he had all he could stomach of Sebacean-like humanoids for one lifetime. Though this one looked nothing like Sinn, with his long saggy hair and that disgusting facial growth that mimicked proper fur under his nose and around his chin. He was also dressed more suited for a well-to-do trader or merchant of some type. Sporting one of those big floppy hats some of them wore to keep the sun off their face while they dealed and worked around the spaceport.

Vaguely, Alppa could also recall seeing a female of the same species wandering around the lodge somewhere.

He hoped there wouldn't be too many more of them! Humanoids would give him the shivers, and nightmares, for the rest of his life he was absolutely sure.

It was then that he noticed the male was regarding him with some mild interest. He was lodging in his seat, legs trust out before him mostly blocking the aisle with his big dusty boots, his arms crossed behind his neck to pillow his head. The brim of his ridiculous hat was pulled down low, but not low enough that Allpa couldn't see the man's gaze upon him.

He tisked to himself at the lack of common courtesy the man was showing to others by blocking the walkway with his big ungainly limbs… even if the lodge was mostly empty at the time, manners should always be observed. Alppa almost cackled wildly to himself as the thought formed in his mind. After the last several days and his harrowing experience, the manners of other beings should be the furthest thing from his strained mind!

The man recaptured his attention as he tilted his hat upwards a bit, and lifted one eyebrow at the rodent-like being when he saw that he in turn had attracted Alppa's notice. He became extremely nervous again at the Sebacean's scrutiny and started to get up to find another seat, placing as much distance as he could from the other male.

"Kind of a rough fellow, wasn't he?" the Sebacean suddenly asked in an easy conversational tone.

Fresh new fear, just as much as bewilderment froze Alppa in his place despite the man's apparent friendliness.

"Are… are you speaking to me?" he asked, trying his best to appear nonchalant.

"Nobody else here, Mickey Mouse," the man replied.

Alppa began to panic. "I don't know what you mean. And I am not this Mac'kay Mow-oose person, I'm sorry."

The man grinned, and Alppa suddenly had a streak of raw terror fill him. What if this odd man was with the Black Syndicate, and they had found out he had betrayed them to that madman, Sinn?

"The big guy you came in with," the Sebacean continued, not moving from his relaxed position in his seat at all. "I said he's kind of a rough one, isn't he?"

Alppa began to sweat under his fur. The man never made a threatening move, but nor did he change that madding cockeyed grin he wore.

"I'm afraid you're mistaken, good sir," the smaller man countered. "Now please, I just want to wait for the ship to board in peace if you don't mind."

The Sebacean nodded in understanding. "I can understand why," he said. "My name's John by the way. What's yours?"

The rodent man use to a lifetime of hospitality service replied without thinking, and then he cursed silently and grit his teeth as he gave his real name. He had been too stressed to think on his feet and come up with a fake one on the spot.

"Again, please. I don't feel like talking right now," Alppa almost pleaded. "I just want to wait to get on the ship." He tried a weak smile so not to appear too insulting to the much bigger man.

"Well Alppa, about that," the man called John said to him with a hint of regret in his tone. "I'm afraid there's been a change of plans. You won't be getting on that ship after all."

"Wh-what?" Alppa stuttered out. Behind him, something pricked him in the back of the neck. There was a small click and something cool flushed into his flesh there, almost instantly the feeling raced along his limbs making them feel light and sluggish.

Abruptly, he seemed to be moving and thinking in slow motion, and even more suddenly that Sebacean female he had glimpsed earlier in the lodge dropped into the seat right next to him. In her hand she held a spent injector device.

"That's Aeryn," the man calling himself John said to him. "You'll have to forgive the rudeness of her greeting, but that's just her way." The man's face suddenly went serious, to Alppa it sort of looked as if it were starting to melt too. He shook his head to try and clear it, but that only made him a bit dizzier. "Sorry about this, little buddy," the taller man went on to say. "But my friends and I need to have a long talk with you," the male continued with his voice now beginning to echo strangely in Alppa's ears.

He managed to swing his head around, to glance at the scarf-cover head of the female at his side once more. His thoughts began to wander on their own as he considered what an ugly race they truly were.

His vision began to dim, and his brain finally connected the dots as to what was happening to him.

"Oh no," he moaned out in a long slur. "Not… again!"

Everything turned black for him, and then nothing.


End file.
